


Salvation

by Greenhairedninja, GreenSparrow (Greenhairedninja), Synthetic_Soul



Series: Salvation [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Genyatta - Freeform, Human Tekhartha Mondatta, Human Zenyatta, M/M, Slow Burn, Violence, it's the slowest slow burn in the history of slow burns, mention of homophobic parenting from Dad Shimada, mention of suicidal thoughts/tendencies, self-harm (in one scene - will be warned for in the notes of the chapter), slight gore (in one scene - will be warned for in the notes of the chapter), working through PTSD and trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 120,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenhairedninja/pseuds/Greenhairedninja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenhairedninja/pseuds/GreenSparrow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synthetic_Soul/pseuds/Synthetic_Soul
Summary: After Genji leaves Blackwatch he aimlessly travels the world, trying to find purpose once again. He barely reaches a monastery deep in the Himalayan mountains, where he is nursed back to health by the monks residing there. One young monk in particular, Zenyatta, is tasked by the leader and founder of the Shambali order, Mondatta, to oversee the stranger’s recovery until he is well enough to decide if he wishes to stay or be on his way.Even though Genji keeps much of himself from Zenyatta he can’t deny the feelings that begin to slowly warm his broken heart. But will he be able to battle the demons of his past that still haunt him?Will Zenyatta be able to figure out his own confusing feelings towards the man who continues to be such a mystery to him?And what influence does the mysterious dragon have that Zenyatta saw in his dream and which roar he hears at night?
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta
Series: Salvation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527068
Comments: 22
Kudos: 32
Collections: Genyatta Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for the 2019 Genyatta Big Bang! I will be posting the first two chapters together, as a little start and then begin to post the chapters on a daily basis until we reach the last two, which I will post together as well. 
> 
> As an important note: This fanfic will not be in the typical style you might be used to. This entire story is based on an rp. I tried writing it into something resembling a fanfiction but it simply didn't feel right.  
> So you will have posts that will have different POVs.
> 
> Co-Creator and Writer + Artist is my beautiful friend Nen. Do check out her stuff because the art and writing she does is amazing!   
> Her twitter: @Synthetica4  
> Her tumblr: asynfulsoul.tumblr.com  
> Her Pillowfort: pillowfort.social/Asynfulsoul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 01/12/19: added the beautiful art Nen (check out her details in the story notes) made for this story OUTSIDE the Genyatta BigBang 2019. Because this is our RP/baby and she has felt inspired a few times. This first image is what, for me, captures the entire story arc of this first part of Salvation.

The ice-cold wind howled around the snow-covered stones, letting snowflakes dance wild around Genji. Deadly spikes of crumbled rocks hiding beneath piles of snow and ice. The path was barely visible anymore and just a single misstep would lead to certain death – either into an icy abyss or down a path covered in rocks and ice.

He pulled the loose fabric tighter around his shivering body as he took another step against the forceful wind. The cloth was nothing that shielded him from the onslaught of raw strength mother nature showed this high up in the Himalayan mountains, but it was all that he had been able to take with him. By now his cybernetic parts were stiff and cold, long overdue with an inspection and his upper body only covered by a thin woollen shirt. He had draped a thick fabric over his shoulders in an attempt to keep his core and the human parts of himself warm. But his entire body was shaking by now and every step felt like he was pushing against an invisible wall.

The wind kept pushing him back as if the mountains did not want his presence on their slopes; trying to push the sinner, that was trying to find his way closer to the gods and salvation, back down.

Genji looked up from the path and scanned the horizon, seeing a red flag dance wildly in the wind, marking the path towards the temple that he seeks. But how much further could it still be?

He had arrived in the village at the foot of the mountains a few days prior, in search of a temple that was rumoured to be nestled into those mountains. He hoped to maybe find guidance on his path, a path he had long lost track of. After all, there was nothing left anymore, no goal to reach, no dreams to fulfil – just emptiness and a coldness that equalled the ice and snow around him. Everything that laid behind in his life, had crumbled to ash and dust and there was no way back for him. So he kept aimlessly going forward.

After leaving Blackwatch, Genji had begun to wander the earth, seeking out places that he hoped would help him find peace or purpose. It had been several years, but he had still not found a conduit for the emptiness and anger inside his soul.

The hike into the mountains was his last fight against the voices inside his mind telling him to simply give up – after all, there was nothing left for him in this world, right? With Blackwatch gone, the last people he had begun to slowly build up trust towards had been ripped away from him once again. Now Genji was left with nothing, neither a man nor a machine, wandering the earth until his body would simply give out.

And it seemed like he has finally found a rival great enough to force him to his knees. The wind had picked up and was pushing the snow painfully against Genji’s body. Would this be where he would meet his end? Covered in snow, lost forever in the wide slopes of the Himalayan mountains.

Finally, he reached the large boulder in which the red flag had been hammered, a mark for travellers, and Genji slowly sunk to his knees. He looked down at his own hand in the snow, beginning to laugh a humourless laugh, filled only with desperation and fear. The sound of a true mad man echoing around him.

Moving his head towards the greyness of the sky, the wind howling around him, tugging at the fabric clinging to his body from the wetness, the sound of the flag in the wind combined with his own heavy breathing, making it sound almost like a beating heart.

Just when Genji had decided that this was going to be it, that was too tired to continue on this path of madness and as his eyes slowly closed behind the protection of his mask he had seen it.  
A second boulder just like the one he kneeled beside. A second red flag, another heartbeat in the wind almost calling him to come closer.

With stiff muscles and the skin numb where it touches the cold metal of the cybernetics, Genji turns himself to look ahead. And between the greyness and the snow, he was able to see it: the temple. Nestled against the side of the mountain that Genji had not been able to see before because of the thick fog, that was now gone.

Maybe not everything was lost? Was he even allowed to hope for something any more, after all, that he has done and all the things he has been through? With a pained grunt, Genji moved his body back into a standing position, leaning heavily against the stone next to him to steady himself. Taking slow steps, his feet dragged over the snow-covered stones…he felt his mind fade, body working on its own. Blackness begins crawling across his vision and he began to stumble.

He reached the large doors, passing over the threshold and looking up towards the sky once again before he collapsed onto his knees. He had made it…but at what price? He stared at the sun that was only visible as a bright orb behind the thick blanket of grey clouds, challenging life itself before his body began to fall forwards. Hitting the ground in a loud sound that echoed in the courtyard, Genji wondered one last time…

Was it worth it? Was he worth it?

* * *

For the monks of the Shambali monastery the sight of such a weather was common for this time of year, when the world below them entered the rainy season, they too would reap the consequences of the increased gales that often battered the mountain site, making the route to the village in the valley below them almost impassable. They had already collected their supplied long before the time rolled around which would isolate them from the rest of the world, yet journeyman still attempted to reach them.  
Uncommon though the sight was, the occasional traveller would turn up at the foot of their concourse, the ancient, decaying stonework of the steps that led to the impressively large and open doorway to the monastery. The sanctum that lay within would offer shelter and solace to those who sought it. But it was not without its price.

They had found him upon the steps, just past the ornate threshold, a tangle of limbs and carefully wound fabric, unconscious but still breathing – was that what he was doing, breathing? Omnics did not breath, Zenyatta thought, but they certainly seized up the extreme cold, their processors froze before they could convey the necessary signals. But this man before him was no omnic.

He was unlike anything the monks who had found him had ever seen before. Prosthetics were common among outsiders and some of their own order, everyone had a past, after all, a story to tell and they would find no judgement here.

Yet this man had them to the extent that foretold an epic rather and a tale.

They moved him, with the careful help of four others, to the monastery’s own infirmary, laid him upon a modest cot to await assessment. One of the monks, an aged looking manual labour omnic, watched over him while he slept. The stranger would most certainly be disorientated when he woke, and there was no telling what he had come here seeking. Mondatta would have to be informed.

Zenyatta glanced up from the free-floating metallic orbs, which had arranged themselves into a tight circular orbit around one outstretched arm, to see the familiar sight of one of his brothers who hastily entered the small antechamber he and Mondatta were currently occupying.  
This day’s lesson has been somewhat lax, leaning more towards Zenyatta displaying what he had learned than him actually furthering his learning.

But it was not like the younger of the two monks to become distracted easily, he had come on in leaps and bounds over the past year and, soon, or so Mondatta hoped, he would reach the stage where Zenyatta could become a master himself.

What had distracted Zenyatta, was the manner in which the other monk had entered, pace hurried, and expression pinched, how he had spoken to Mondatta, giving him the message of the newcomer on their doorstep. Zenyatta had observed it all and he did not have to wait long to discover what had happened.

 **“And you found him like this?”** , Mondatta’s voice intoned from somewhere behind Zenyatta. The younger of the pair still staring ahead at the cot both in disbelief and wonder.

The man that was stretched out before them remained still, inert but for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He had been stripped of the cloth that had kept his frame from freezing, revealing partial sections of flesh that vanished beneath carefully put together cybernetics. The skin had strange amalgamations and an even more curious arrangement of deep scaring.

 **“Yes, Master. Just inside the main entrance”** , the omnic who had tended to the stranger was speaking, his oversized head nodding along.  
**“He’s had lucid moments, appears to respond, but quickly falls under again. I do not know how long he was out there.”**

Mondatta hummed pensively, casting a critical gaze over the stranger’s resting form. He certainly was unusual.

 **“He was armed, you say?”** The omnic, Fon, nodded once, looking between Zenyatta and Mondatta before replying. **  
****“He was, but I do not believe his intention was to harm us.”**

The omnic made a pause in his speech, during which Zenyatta felt the warm weight of his master’s hand settle upon his shoulder, firm, reassuring – he was about to ask something of him. The younger man tilted his face up in silent askance.

 **“Let us forgo your lesson for today.”** , Mondatta said but Zenyatta knew it was not a reprieve,  
**“You are needed here, and I know you are more than capable.”**

Pride swelled thickly within Zenyatta’s chest. He had been asked to assist the other healers before now, his knowledge of the techniques had been tried and tested under supervision, but alone? He had never been left to his own devices.  
The injured dog down in the village that he had healed, did not count, according to Mondatta.

But here it happened, trusting Zenyatta with this stranger’s wellbeing. Doubting that his master wouldn’t know precisely how high on life the given trust would make him, Zenyatta ordered up a reserved nod in response, feet shuffling a bit on the floor as he made his way over to settle at the side of the cot.

Close up, Zenyatta was able to see the true extent of the other’s now healed wounds, but not anything fresh. A latticework of slashed and puckered lines crisscrossed their way over the exposed half of the chest, turning shiny pink where they disappeared beneath the grafted metal. Whatever life this man – yes, he was definitely human – had seen, it had been serious.

 **“If you can hear me, I am here to help”** , Zenyatta voice was soft, reassuring as he placed one palm-sized orb between his hands, concentrating on it.  
**“This may feel a little strange, but you will have to trust me…there will be no pain, I promise you”**

Not exactly reassuring, given that the stranger did not know what he intended to do with the sphere, but that thought did not occur to Zenyatta when this was nothing out of the ordinary for him and his brothers.

* * *

Genji was able to hear voices, that’s the first thing he noticed in those short moments that his mind woke up long enough for him to stir. The second thing he registered is the warmth against his skin. Though his body still shook from the cold that had seeped down into his bones and the metal core of his frame.  
His skin felt like it was being penetrated and pinched by a hundred little needled, the warmth hurting his icy flesh. A groan left his lips and his head fell to the side. His mask in the way for it to fall comfortably to the side. Everything hurt and his head pounded in time with his slow heartbeat.

He had been awake before the voices came but then only a used looking omnic had sat by his side, watching him. He had asked him questions but Genji couldn’t remember anymore, everything felt like it was too far away and just out of his reach.

Slowly he opened his eyes, trying to focus on the monk who was seated next to the cot. His vision was swimming and it was hard to focus on the man, let alone see what exactly he was doing with his hands. Genji hoped that the cold and bad maintenance of his cybernetic implants had not damaged his eyesight permanently.

More and more awareness now flickered through Genji’s mind, the feeling of sweat dampening his forehead and slicking his hair down against the top part of his mask. It had gotten too long throughout his journey. Thoughts drifted off, losing focus on the situation he was in as his eyes closed once again.

He heard just a single voice now, right next to his cot. The young man who had just sat down there was speaking to him. He opened his eyes again slowly, trying to concentrate on him. The monk was holding something in his hands…a sphere? How was he going to be able to help him with a sphere?!

 **“No…pain?”** , Genji croaked out. His throat dry from the long disuse and the lack of food and water. Once again, his thoughts began to wander away from him. When had he eaten his last meal? Before he could continue, he felt a shudder run all through his body and his chest tightened. A fit of coughs shook his frame and his dry throat was only agitated further, his lungs burning in pain. Instinctively he tried to turn to his side to ease the shaking of his body. Every cough was like a hit with a hammer against his head, the world swirling around in front of his eyes.

Panic rose inside of Genji and he moved his hands to the part of his mask that was in front of his mouth. Shaking hands tried to rip the piece away as his body continued to convulse with every new cough. His fingers too stiff from the cold still he couldn’t reach the button to release the mask and the dry coughs were now making him heave and gag.

Tears sprung to his eyes at the continuing feeling of not getting enough oxygen into his system and between the coughs, Genji let out a series of distressed noises, by now only clawing at his mask in desperation.

After the tubing had been removed from the back of his head back in Blackwatch, the mask was attached to another piece of cybernetic that ran along his lower neck. Usually applying pressure on the right points would release it easily, but the cold must have deformed the connections so it wouldn’t come apart.  
Genji gripped the edge at his cheek and the lower one at his chin with one hand and began pulling on it harshly, trying to force the metal from its connections. Just as another gag reflex came up from the dry feelings in his throat and his lungs tightened in a painful convulsion of fresh coughs he ripped the mask off his face. The edge of it cut his face dangerously close to his eyes as his hand pulls away from him due to the strength he had used. The mask fell from his hands as Genji collapsed back onto the cot, now lying half on his stomach. Everything was moving around too fast, the room spinning and his body shivered from both the cold and exhaustion, a fine sheen of sweat covering his human skin and coughs still shaking his frame.

 **“No…more…pain”**  
Genji tried to speak once again before he could feel his eyes roll up into the back of his head and he fell back down on the cot, his body going lax, yet occasional coughs were still shaking him.

* * *

The man beside him had begun stirring restlessly, limbs, both cybernetic and organic, twitching spasmodically while he uttered things behind the smooth steel plating of the mask that obscured his mouth from view. The voice that slid from beneath was dry, slipping through the cracks like dust through ancient pipework, arid as the particles and proceeds of his journey rattle their way through his chest, trying to find an exit.  
Zenyatta placed a steadying hand upon the centre of the man’s chest, a vague attempt at stopping him from sitting up so suddenly.  
**“Please, don’t try to speak, you must rest for this to wor-“**

But the man had already moved, a rattling cough emerging from behind the mask’s plating, a whole chorus following suit, coughing, wheezing, the pitiful sounds of a groan as the stranger’s hand scrabbled in a panic to reach for the mask still clasped firmly to his face. Zenyatta daren’t reach over to offer help, rescinding the hand that had held the other pressed, gently, to the cot, before he was injured in the fight to pry the metal off the other’s face or worse.  
A rending twang of metal springing free of its electronic clasp was followed, swiftly, by the clang the mask made as it hit the stone floor, clattering into the corner of the room and startling Fon, the omnic who had stayed by the man’s side, and who was still in muted conversation with Mondatta.

Zenyatta braced himself, unmoving and painfully tense. He did not want to hurt the stranger further, but had Fon not said that the man had been armed when he had arrived? There could have been a dozen or so places this man could have secreted a weapon, he had heard of modifications that could do as much, so were they truly out of danger by taking the man’s weapons from him?

 ** _“Zenyatta…”_** , Mondatta’s calm timbre rumbled out from across the room, just the very mention of his name in that tone turned the younger monk’s caution into mindfulness. It was wise to be wary, but far less wise to show it.

He sat back on his haunches, reaching for the errant orb before the stranger had chance to accidentally roll himself onto it.  
The man did not rise to attack, to Zenyatta’s surprise, but instead rolled onto his side, facing away from him, clutching at his side whilst crumbling in on himself, agonized, dazed and confused, still gasping for air as tiny troublesome coughs jarred his frame every so often.

A pang of sympathy twined its way through the younger monk’s chest, wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing. Here was someone who had seen much trauma and still suffered for it. Whatever he might have done, to whomever he might have done it, suffering was suffering and that never sat right with Zenyatta.

 **“I am sorry, I did not mean to frighten you.”**  
He offered, pausing to accept the offered cup that Fon had fetched from the small stand, positioned next to the cot.  
**“Here, some water will help.”**  
At least he believed it would, did the man still need to drink, or eat? Was he capable of doing so?

Curiosity was not one of Zenyatta’s best traits, and it served him well when he casually caught a glimpse of the lower half of the stranger’s face. Synthetic, by the looks of things, like his entire lower jaw.  
The young monk’s eyes widened, pupils dilating suddenly, the injured stranger had locked eyes with him for the tiniest of split seconds. Enough for him to notice they were not entirely natural either, their red irises striking in the pale light of day, almost iridescent.  
Lips moving uselessly, his tongue stumbled over the words that projected themselves into the forefront of his mind. He could not think at this moment, mind muddied by the questions – _so many questions_ – all of which he couldn’t ask.

A thin ribbon of crimson was now streaking the man’s high cheekbones, wrought as he’d ripped the mask off his face. Oddly, it was that which sobered him, brought Zenyatta round, gently, from his stark moment of nothingness.

 **“R-Right…no pain. You have my word”** , he reassured, palm finding the familiar shape of the orb again, watching as the contraption began to glow from within, segments of its form opening out ever so lightly, emitting the warm, golden light.  
**“And let us see if we can’t fix that too.”  
**A sweep of his index finger in midair, the general direction of the wound to his cheek indicated.

For the first time since the injured man’s awakening, the other two in the room had turned their attention to him. Most notably, the tall, lithe man dressed in simple white, patterned kasaya, standing regal yet seemingly expecting no bows and graces, he’d bizarrely managed to slip into the background through all of this, until now. It was he who spoke next.  
**“You can speak, if you think you are able, friend, but do not try to move, it disturbs my student’s concentration”**  
The monk, Mondatta, smiled when he noticed the younger’s shoulders bunch, knowing that Zenyatta would have worn a rather disgruntled frown, had he been able to see his face.  
**“And I have every faith in him.”**

* * *

It took Genji a moment until he realized that the monk was addressing him. The blood was rushing inside his ears and the pounding headache seemed to have developed a sound of its own as well. It took a few long breaths, his chest rattling with the sound of impending coughs until the cyborg found the strength to open his eyes again and look at the man beside the cot. He was now holding a cup of water into his direction and Genji slowly moved to lean upon a shaking elbow.  
He spilt half of the contained liquid on himself and the cot before it even reached his mouth. As soon as the rim of the cup touched his lips though, he greedily takes in the water in large gulps. The feeling of soothing, fresh water running down his throat easing the pain momentarily.

He handed the cup back over to the monk when he offered to take it from him and Genji collapsed back on the cot as soon as he did. He was still shivering, it almost seemed like his body was even more chilled from the intake of cold water. Even breathing became something the cyborg began to despise since with every intake the fear rose inside of him that the coughs would begin anew. Only to be followed by relief when they did not come. Yet the circle of fear and relief repeating itself with every shallow breath he took.

Genji felt his eyes close, he was so tired now. He was hanging on by the last strength still residing inside of him and he still wasn’t sure what exactly was happening around him. For the first time since he woke up, the cyborg tried to take in the rest of the room and the people whose voices he had heard before. It was hard to concentrate on them with his headache pounding away inside his brain and his eyes simply could not focus properly. But he was able to see another monk, dressed in a simple white robe and an omnic wearing a beige kasaya, standing next to the human.  
He had been the one watching over him, Genji remembered now.

While he tried to focus on the other people in the room, the orb-shaped object in the man’s hand began to glow and Genji flinched away from it on the cot, just to shoot his gaze towards the monk who had just spoken to him. He flinched once again when the younger monk’s hands rose to swipe through the air between them in the general direction of his face.

 **“I-…”** , he tried to speak but coughs began to shake his frame the second he breathed in. Through the short, yet no less painful, coughing fit Genji had watched the man, Zenyatta, he had been called, take on a concentrated frown. The orb held steadily in the man’s hand before was now beginning to hover in his palm, emitting a golden glow.

Knowing that speaking would most likely lead to even more coughing, he decided to keep quiet. There was nothing to talk about anyway. Many questions were ghosting around in his fevered mind that demanded answers but for now,…he was simply too weak. He could only hope for now that the monks were friendly and that whatever was happening right now, with the man beside him holding a golden glowing sphere, was nothing that would harm him any further.  
Genji settled back on his back and tried to shut his mind off from his surroundings. Sleep would be welcome, but every part of his body screamed in pain and would not allow him to slip into it.

Genji had only heard rumours about the monks living in the temple here so ultimately if something were to happen to him, he could only blame himself and his foolishness. But why would the monks get him inside and offer help when they wanted nothing to do with a stranger like him? They could have left him outside to freeze to death.

He could feel a strange calmness settle over his mind. It felt weird because his mind was everything but calm right now. Frantically he started at the glowing orb in front of him and then up into the monk’s face. He was frowning, yet his face bunched up even further when Genji looked at him. Was he causing this?

He took in a shaking breath and immediately regretting it, as he had to turn to his side to counter the painful fit of coughs slamming into his body. Sweat was beading on his face and his hair was beginning to be completely soaked once again. He couldn’t hear his body’s fans over the buzzing in his ears, so he had no idea if his body was currently even able to cool his system from the fever he must surely have. Though his core temperature must surely be too low still to valid the cooling of his system.

Genji groaned painfully when he settled back on his side, pulling his legs up as close to his body as possible and wrapping his arms around his upper body. A soft whimpered slipped from him from time to time, every time his breath hitched and yet another cough forced itself out even though he tried so desperately to keep them contained. Without noticing it his coughs become less frequent and the shivering of his body stops. Be began to accept the calmness washing over him and the hushed voice around him returned into the background.  
Finally, he was able to slip into the welcome blackness of unconsciousness.

* * *

**“As I was saying, speak only if you are able”** , Mondatta chuckled, a deep, warm sound that would have been comforting in any other circumstance. His amusement was at his student’s expense though, the pressure of having an audience came second to their overall safety and that was why both he and Fon remained.

There would be a time for questions and the Shambali leader certainly had many for the sick man lying in his infirmary at the moment, but it was not the time for it yet. Not now while Zenyatta worked.

For his part, Zenyatta had become considerably less tense when he observed the stranger settling back down, though the alarming rate at which he drank the water was a testament to his long time on the road. There was an abundance of snow all around them, but boiling and filtering it, to make it safe enough to drink, took time and energy. With as little on his back but the clothes he wore and the swords he had been carrying, it didn’t look like this man was equipped for the hike into the mountains.

 **“Thank you”** , Zenyatta said softly, quietly offering his gratitude for the stranger’s settling back on the cot.  
**“You should feel a difference shortly.”**  
The orb settled above Genji’s head, bobbing in midair where it remained, emitting a quiet, soothing sound, melodic like the wind chimes and bells that hung delicately from the monastery shrines. Within a moment, it had lulled the injured man to sleep.

*****

Time passes so slowly when one is waiting for things, and long after the orb had lost its charge, Zenyatta sat, still within the infirmary, watching the clouds pass by the little window as he listened to the sound of the whipping wind buffeting the side of the monastery walls. The man beside him remained inert, the gentle sound of his breathing had evened out into a quiet and gentle dialogue – worlds apart from the rasping, dry wheeze he had exhibited earlier.

The day would wear on and he would need to leave for meditation. Mondatta had stated he could forgo that evening’s session, he had work to do here, but when all their guest did was sleep, what was he to do? Well, there was always practising the orbs, but their manipulation was something more of a pastime than a real task.

Tiredly, he glanced over at the stranger again – he seemed so peaceful and Zenyatta had to wonder how long it had been since he had last felt such peace. He himself hadn’t always been this calm, collected soul he was now, either, nor had he been born inside these walls. Fon had brought him here when he was too small to remember the outside world, and this had been where he had been raised. But that had not stopped him from wandering, testing his boundaries, because if there was one thing human beings did best, then it was to push the limits of their bar less cages.

The sound of the cot creaking under the shift of weight stirred Zenyatta from his small reverie and with a turn of his head, he could see the stranger’s eyes flutter open, squinting into the argent light of the room.

Finally, Zenyatta had some company once again.

 **“Welcome back”** , Zenyatta intoned pleasantly, if not a little reserved – the others weren’t here to back him up now and only the Iris knew what Fon had done with the man’s sword.  
**“How are you feeling?”** , canting his head, quizzical, the young man rose from the little pile of wooden crated and swivelled into the stranger’s direction, affording the other a sheepish smile.  
**“No pain, am I correct? Well, mostly…I am working on perfecting it, I haven’t had a challenge quite as uh…severe as yours.”**


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for hallucinations that include a lot of blood, murdering two monks and creepy voices

Genji groaned when he felt himself wake from the dreamless slumber he had fallen into. Moments passed in which he felt confused and disoriented; his body felt warm and the aching pain that has become a constant for him in his life was only a shadow at the back of his mind.

Slowly the memory of him waking and having one of the monks offer him water, telling him there would be no pain to come as long as he lay still, came back to the cyborg and with a pained moan, he moved his body to the side, slowly opening his eyes. It was still light outside. But had only hours passed, or had it been days? Nothing made sense to him anymore.  
A voice to the side of his cot made Genji turn his head towards the speaker and his eyes settled on the monk who had been with him before. HE was still young, bald head just like the other one that had been in the room earlier, wearing the traditional robes of the monks in these parts of the world: soft tones of orange, beige and red.

He grunted as a first answer, his body and mind still needing time to fully come back to him. He felt…weird. Not like himself. What had the monk done to him with that hovering sphere?!

 **“I-…”** , Genji began to speak but stops himself again, looking around the room. With more pained noises and a few curses beneath his breath, he slowly sat up on the cot, folding his legs carefully in front of him.

 **“Good”** , he uttered then as he stares out of one of the windows, blinking against the light. The snowstorm had stopped it seemed and Genji was able to see parts of the monastery he must be in. His mind was still trying to grasp the different symptoms his body was sending him. He was feeling good compared to when he had first been awake. He concentrates on his breathing, his chest rising in slow, deep breaths. He can still feel a rattling and hear a fitting sound come from his lungs…as suddenly a coughing fit shakes his frame.

After he calmed his breathing again, Genji tried to straighten up, his body feeling weak and his head beginning to pound again behind his temples with an impending headache. What was he even doing here? His goal had been, if he could call it a goal with a life that had nothing left to live for, to find _something_ here. Now that he was here, being nursed back to health, his endeavour seemed rather pointless to him. And what was this monk going on about perfecting his technique and him being a challenge?

A sudden realization hits Genji and he spun around on the cot, looking around the room frantically.  
**“My swords?! Where is it?”** , he called out, trying to get up from his seated position on the low bed, which only results in his legs giving out under the sudden weight and him tumbling to the ground, his body alight with fire, lungs burning and his pride in ruins.  
He truly was pathetic.

* * *

**“Good?”**

Zenyatta sat up a little straighter while he reached for the small pitcher of water that had been left on the table next to the cot. He poured half a glass for their new patient, whom he quirked an eyebrow at in an amused fashion.

 **“You came a long way to say so few words.”  
**It wasn’t a quip, not even a dig at the man’s disorientation. Zenyatta simply wasn’t used to someone making the pilgrimage in order to say practically nothing when they reached sanctuary here. It could mean that this man had not been venturing here, but beyond the monastery there was only a shrine higher up the mountain, ancient, unused for generations and a few ruins further up. If not to them where else would he have been going?

A fit of coughing, not unexpected, filled the room with a barking echo that jarred Zenyatta’s peace and quiet considerably. He offered out the glass forthwith, nudging the stranger’s arm with it while he was bent over, struggling to regain his breath.  
**“Here”** , he said, **“Sometimes the simplest methods are the most effective.”**

He kicked up off the pile of neatly stacked crates – medical supplies for the winter – brushing the dust and minor rough splinters from his kasaya, the orange and red fabric a plume of colour around his lithe form before it settled into its natural fall.  
**“I regret that I could not do more for you with my orbs, but they have only so much energy to give. Sometimes it is enough, other times…well, let’s not get into that, you are alive, you have a fighting chance, but please, do not overexert yourself.”**

The stranger seemed oblivious to his humour, Zenyatta supposed that made sense, he had woken up in a strange place, surrounded by even stranger people, with a high fever and, by the sounds of things, a chest infection to match, injured and semi-conscious. It was a lot to adjust to, Zenyatta’s presence aside.

Whatever he had taken the monk’s chattiness for, it did prompt him to ask a question he had to have been wondering for a while. What had they done to his weapons? The truth was, he did not know for certain where the sword had been stashed away to, but he had a fair idea and that idea was not to be given lightly into the hands that wished to grasp it.

**“It was removed when you were found, but do not fear, it is being stored somewhere safe for when you – “**

The unwell man was upright in an instance, startling Zenyatta inwardly, with how fluid and free a motion it had been, as smooth as any omnic, just as shockingly strong, too. How much of that body was pure machine, he wondered, and how much was still the man that operated it? A shivering, sympathetic tingle encircled his own legs, at the cutoff point where flesh met smooth, solid metal. He had once had healthy, human legs but had lost those, but this man had lost so much more than his body, he was, Zenyatta sensed, something of an empty vessel, struggling to keep a hold of the parts of himself that had once seemed so tangible to him, he didn’t have to pay them mind.  
Mondatta’s words of caution rung true…

As soon as the stranger had risen, Zenyatta moved along with him, the once inert orbs, set down upon the window ledge, quivering in anticipation of the recall they would not get. Not yet.  
Because just as quickly as the strange rose, his legs gave out beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor with an almighty sound. The young monk moved forth but was not quick enough, unsure that he could have caught such an alloy heavy frame anyway, reaching the stranger’s side just as his knew hit – and cracked – the ancient stone beneath.  
**“Please, _rest_.”**

Caution was thrown to the wind for a second, Zenyatta’s hands threading beneath the fleshy portion of the man’s arm, offering him help with which to stand. Zenyatta’s brow was knit with worry.  
**“I said the orb would help you feel better, but the rest of you could probably do with looking at by one of our omnic brothers.”  
**He wasn’t right, Zenyatta could see that in his strangely offset crimson eyes, they did not focus on anything in particular, darting around the room looking for –

 **“I am afraid they won’t let you have your weapon back, not until they are clear of your intentions”** , he said, just a little firmer than before – did he seriously think they’d leave him armed? No, there was something more than that.

**“I have already said too much, Mondatta will want to speak with you, I would advise you to get your rest for that one.”**

* * *

Genji flinched when he feels the warm touch of the monk against his flesh and he quickly pulled his arm free from the grasp. He understood that the man wished only to help and yet…it was too much. His ugly scarred flesh, the last remains of the human body he had once possessed too tender still from the cold and his burning fever.

The cyborg realized that the monk was still talking to him, that he is no hallucination created by his mind. Someone willing to help him even tried to touch him, his voice still calm and collected.  
Pushing himself to sit back on his knees he stared at the broken floor and from there to his hand against the stone. Trying to focus his eyes on them he wasn’t able to make sure if it was his hands shaking or if the entire room around him was spinning.

 **“My…intentions?”** , he asked, more to himself than to the man still kneeling next to him. He hasn’t tried to touch him again, but he kept close to Genji’s body and he moved slightly to look at the monks. Their eyes locked and the cyborg tried to search for something that might help him understand the situation he suddenly found himself in.

Genji knew that lying will get him nothing here and there was no reason to either way. He had intended to reach the monastery and the monks in search for help. His last attempt at finding guidance and if he should not find it here, then he would make sure that he would not suffer any longer.

 **“I am lost…”** , he murmured as he pushed himself off from the ground slowly and dragged himself back to the cot. Trying to let his body slide down on it and into a seated position ended with him gasping in pain and collapsing on top of it. Curses flew from his mouth again as he tried to arrange his useless body, looking back at the monk.

While he had heaved his body back to the cot the monk had grabbed the water cup that had found its way to the ground when the young man had tried to reach him in time. He refilled it and offered it to Genji. Carefully and with shaking hands he took it from him, spilling the content slightly over himself once again as he drinks the water as desperately as before. His throat worked even when the water was gone and he happily accepts the monk’s kind suggestion of refilling it for him.

Mondatta? Another monk? Most likely the one dressed in the ornate white robe that Genji had seen before when he had been awake last. Was he the leader of this monastery? The way the monk talked about him made Genji become wary of him already. Would he be interrogated like a common criminal? Did these monks by any chance already know how and what Genji was and would this be the reason that they had immediately taken his sword from him?

Genji shook his head slightly, groaning and moving his hands to his head, gripping his hair in desperation. He simply wanted it to stop: to stop hurting and to stop feeling the emptiness inside of him.  
He understood why the monks had taken his sword from him, they had now known if he was a threat or not, still couldn’t be sure. Genji himself wasn’t sure if he was a threat…to himself most definitely, that he knew.  
They could not know that the weapon was the last possession he had from a past that Genji wished was long forgotten and yet it kept pushing its way into his life.

The soft sound of wood creaking and feet shuffling made Genji raise his gaze towards the now open door. The other monk, Mondatta, was standing in the doorway, silent and unmoving but for his eyes scanning the room and finally settling on Genji.

* * *

The flinch of the other man was duly noted and promptly ignored. A would-be killer they might be, but they had had those in their midst before, the monks of this monastery were well equipped to defend themselves, should they need to. Still, that did not mean none among their multitude were immune to harm, so Zenyatta eased off, letting the stranger settle on the edge of the bed once again and drink his fill of water.

 **“Yes, your intentions”** , he repeated, taking a couple of steps back to put some distance between them, hoping it would calm the other some to have room to breathe.  
**“We know nothing about you, but I assume you were found upon the monastery steps that you knew at least a little about us?”**

Water dribbled down the man’s synthetic-fibre skin, dappling the charcoal grey material with droplets of shine. The young monk refrained from offering him a cloth to wipe that off with, it seemed a little too condescending and a reminder that the other was not at his best.  
Reminders, subtle or otherwise, weren’t always appreciated.

So the stranger was lost? Zenyatta considered this for a couple of seconds, it was plausible, but why would one venture higher when they could have taken the mountain pass and forgo the potential altitude sickness. The air was thinner up here, and this unfortunate soul had succumbed to both that and the elements quite thoroughly.  
**“Well, it is lucky you found us. Any longer and my brothers tell me it would have been too late.”**

He watched as the cup was set down, taking it between his hand to refill it again, the pitcher now near-empty – he would have to fetch more. This stranger was a man of few words and Zenyatta could appreciate that. He had been known to go days, when travelling, without speaking to a single soul. Sometimes solitude was necessary to focus. How many days had this man wandered alone, he wondered? How long had he been without company?  
Someone had to have built him that body and by the looks of its complexity, they had put a great deal of time, due care and attention into it.

Zenyatta passed back the glass. **“Well, since you will be here until well enough to move on, I should introduce myself. I am Zenyatta.”  
**Nodding his head towards the other in a small indication, he added the inevitable.  
**“And you are?”**

The creaking of the door opening cut their conversation in two, causing the younger monk to crane his neck back in order to meet the gaze of the older one, now re-entering. He greeted Mondatta with a warm smile, returned in kind when the older man placed a hand on Zenyatta’s shoulder to prevent him from fully rising to leave.  
**“No, Zenyatta, I want you here for this.”**

Confused, he let the muscles in his legs relax, settling down on the floor again, while Mondatta took up position upon the pile of crates Zenyatta had used earlier.

 **“It is good to see you awake my friend. I hope you are feeling somewhat rested?”** , Mondatta asked, eyeing the stranger with a curious tilt of his head, scrutinizing, measuring up. Yet never once did he lose that calm aura.  
**“You will have to forgive me for eavesdropping, but I hear you were lost. If you are looking for safe passage over the mountain range, I am afraid you are some miles out of your way.”**

* * *

Genji realized that his reply had been taken in a geographical and physical way instead of his intended purpose of the words. He was truly lost. Not on a path to somewhere but on a much grander scale of having lost who he was. But of course, the monks could not know that a man came all the way as a last resolve before death. And Genji would have accepted and embraced death on these mountains freely and it had been sheer luck that he had found the monastery in the exact moment that he did.

He pulled at his hair one last time, running his fingers through the greasy strands before he let his hands fall into his lap, looking at the monk who must be Mondatta. The man whose questions he would need all of his strength for if he believed what the younger monk, Zenyatta, had told him. Curiously Genji observed their small exchange and he couldn’t help but be thankful that he would not be left alone with the older man, a stranger like the young monk but still yet another shift in his rapidly changing world.

It felt strange to be having a conversation again. Genji could not remember the last time that he had interacted with a human. In his travels, he had avoided crowded places like cities and only sought them out when he needed food. And even that he had always rationed harshly. With no money, it had been hard to come by and since his taste had been lost, food had become more of a struggle and necessity than a thing he enjoyed, ignoring the hunger he felt for as long as he could.

He straightened his back and looked over at the monk, who was now seated on the pile of crates, taking in a slow, deep breath.

 **“I am alive”** , Genji began his reply but those words alone made him feel hollow. He did not feel alive, only for the fact that he knew that his chest was still moving with every breath and his heart was pumping blood through his body. He still felt rather disorientated and his body ached. He couldn’t say how he was feeling, too much at once and yet not enough. Numbness in parts of his mind that he had put behind thick walls to protect himself while other parts stayed exposed, bleeding out and tender. Any other man in his position might groan and trash in pain and yet Genji’s tolerance for pain had gone up since…  
He closed his eyes, a pained expression flickering over his face.  
Since his brother’s betrayal and his murder.

 **“I do not seek passage over the mountain range. I heard rumours about the temple in these parts of the mountains. I did not expect to ever reach it…”** , he explained, trailing off as he moved his head to stare out of the window and towards the snowy mountains. They looked quite beautiful in the slowly dimming light outside.

He had already given up before he had started his journey up towards the temple. His intention of ever reaching it never a fully formed plan, a part of his mind had instead told him that if he died on the way at least he could tell himself that he had tried to seek peace one last time.

The fact that he was indeed still alive, saved by the monks, unsettled Genji. He had been ready to die, ready to let it all go and leave this miserable life, if one could even call it a life, behind. What was he supposed to do now that he lived once again against the offs that had been presented to him? Was this some sick plan of a higher being that enjoyed toying with his life? Not letting him die and making him suffer through his existence for a crime he wasn’t even sure he ever committed?

 **“What will become of me now?”** , Genji asked, still facing the window with his body tense and his hands beginning to shake. If the monks found out who he was, would they dare allow him to stay amidst them?

A machine made for killing…a murderer.

* * *

While Zenyatta resisted the urge to pace, to get up from the floor and recall his orbs to him, Mondatta instead waited patiently.  
Under the scrutiny of his teacher, Zenyatta was loathing to act out, preferring instead to clamp down on those feelings, lest they get the better of him. He wasn’t off to a good start as it was, the stranger was far too jittery and unpredictable for his liking, and rather than prime him for whatever Mondatta had to ask, he seemed to have just agitated the fellow.

 **“You came seeking the Shambali?”** , Mondatta spoke, genuinely sounding surprised rather than the many shades of knowing Zenyatta had been expecting to hear. What made this one so different from all the other travellers that came to them?  
And yet Zenyatta knew the answer to his question anyway. One look at the stranger and one would garner a million questions, but it had not been his place to pry nor attempt to solicit a willing answer.

 **“Then perhaps it is a little more than just fortune that we found you on our steps.”  
**Mondatta leaned back upon his makeshift seat, the wood beneath him cracking and creaking with the shift of his weight.  
**“And now here you sit. You have found us and your reasons for that shall remain your own.”**

 **“A little strange, is it not, to seek us out carrying weapons that could have cut down any number of us?”** , Zenyatta enquired, the ridge of his nose wrinkled ever so slightly, his suspicion palpable – and capable of earning him a beleaguered sigh from Mondatta.

**“As I was _saying_ , Zenyatta, his reasons are his own. He may tell us when the time is right for him to learn what he came here for. And when the student is ready – “**

Zenyatta bowed his head deeply, reverent even if his words seemed for recital than belief.  
**“…The teacher will appear.”**

An approving hum emanated from Mondatta’s direction, but the older monk did not spare a moment to glance at his student, proud or not. No, his gaze was still firmly fixed on the stranger, nothing how every so often he would find a way to look anywhere but back at him. A cough, an ache or pain, a chance to drink when everything else had been exhausted. The poor man had to have felt on show here, it was only natural, yet there was a tension in those synthetic part that he couldn’t work out quite as well as the flesh that remained.

 **“As my student astutely pointed out, you may give us your reasons when you are fit and able.”**  
Mondatta gestured towards the door with the sweep of one, oddly elegant, hand.  
**“Although I do advise remaining here until your infection has passed, you are free to come and go as you please. We ask only that you do not disturb our brothers during meditation in the sanctum, that you are respectful and… _ah_ , oh yes”**, a smile lit up Mondatta’s regal features, **“We will be hanging on to your interesting sword. No weapons.”**

If Mondatta had noticed the look of utter incredulity now contracting his student’s pupils, then he did not say anything. Not did he glance, nor so much as blink in Zenyatta’s direction. Had Mondatta lost his mind?!  
They didn’t even know this stranger’s name! Oh, he knew that their leader worked in interesting and often mysterious ways, but never, in all the time Zenyatta had been privy to the comings and going of this infirmary, had he heard the man say something so flagrantly irresponsible. What was he playing at?

**“Master, I don’t think we should be trus- “**

But a cautionary, placating, hand haltered the young monk’s protests, forcing Zenyatta back down – for now.

**“What Zenyatta means to say is: When you have recovered, he will be more than happy to help you get settled. Unless, of course, your reasons for being here were as nefarious as I believe he fears?”**

Well, that was something at least.  
Zenyatta relaxed a little, knowing that Mondatta was aware of the danger, at least in part, was slightly more comforting. But volunteering him again? There was only so much of the stranger’s silence and awkwardness he could work with. A test then, that was what this must be, a test of his patience.

* * *

The creaking of the makeshift chair Mondatta was resting on made Genji turn his face towards the monk. A blank, almost empty expression on his face while he listened to the man. Fortune? Was it fortune though? Currently, it felt more like a curse that he seemed to be carrying around with him wherever he went. That his life would simply not end no matter how much he wished for it to do so.

He averted his gaze when the man spoke up again, he felt like a wolf among a herd of sheep. They trusted him this easily even though they knew nothing about him and know that he had been carrying a sword?

His head jerked up and Genji stared at the younger monk, his face shifting into an angry snarl as he spoke up, voicing what seemed to be his true opinion about him. At least the younger one seemed to take the threat Genji might pose into account. The older of the two on the other hand…Genji couldn’t read him – it was unnerving, he was calm and his voice carried no judgment.

He shifted his gaze from the robes of the monk to his own shaking hands and then back outside. Genji heard the words spoken to him, his brain registering the allowance he got to stay and at the mention of his sword he perked up.

 **“My sword…is it safe? No one is to touch it!!”** , Genji immediately jumped on the topic, his body going rigid and gaze fixed on Mondatta. He understood why they took it from him and simply knowing that it was being kept in a safe space somewhere would be enough for now, even though he would feel a lot safer having it with him. He couldn’t be sure if people haunting and hunting him might have still followed him. Even to this remote place deep in the Himalaya mountains.

The cyborg could feel the shaking of his hands slowly work its way up to his arms, not sure if it was because of the cold, the exhaustion or the fact that he did not know when he had last eaten. Seated upright and following a conversation was getting harder by the minute, his head was beginning to pound and his vision became blurry as soon as he stopped focusing on something.

Snapping back to attention when the younger monk spoke again, Genji growled deep in his throat, staring at Zenyatta. This one was a rude creature. Questioning his master’s words and openly showing his distrust in Genji, it wasn’t a wise thing to do.

 **“Genji”** , the cyborg spoke his name in a serious tone. They did not need to know his last name, did not know about his past but he could give them at least this much. His name was all he had to himself still, the only reminder of the time that was before and would never be again.

 **“And I have not come here for slaughter, _monk_ ”**, he snarled at Zenyatta, his voice agitated and his entire posture tense and ready to defend himself…or attack should it be necessary. He did not know where the sudden strength was coming from to keep himself upright, everything was becoming increasingly hard to focus on, but it would do him no good to pass out like this now.

He had done so much killing in Blackwatch, without remorse he had cut down any enemy with a swift strike of his sword or a single well-aimed shuriken. How many men had he already killed in his life? How much blood was coating his hands and body? Dead was dead – a mission was a mission. And yet, in his weakest moment, the dead seemed to come back to life to haunt him, taunt him for the brutality he had shown. He had liked killing them, it had given him purpose. The only thing he still had been good at with the new body that was made exactly for that.

His mind was wandering and his gaze lost focus as he stared at a point on a wall between the two monks. The crack in the ground on which he had fallen swimming before his eyes. Genji blinked slowly, suddenly feeling frozen to the spot, his body going solid and his muscles flexing at his side, hands balling into fists, shaking.

The liquid seemed to be slowly pouring from the cracks in the ground, pushing its way out between the stones. Squinting at it Genji tried to focus on the dark pulsing mass. Thick rivulets of it slowly spreading over the tiles in front of his cot. This couldn’t be real…he jerked his head to see if the two monks were seeing it too but they did not seem to notice it.

He stared back at the ground when suddenly the mass seemed to have increased and the liquid was no pouring out from beneath the cracks in faster pulses, spreading over the ground and moving towards Genji. His breath began to fasten as he started at the approaching black mass.  
**“No…”** , Genji muttered underneath his breath as he can finally see the liquid better now that it had almost reached him. Red rivulets of fresh blood poured from the stones and began soaking everything in its way. Shapes seemed to form within it, faces of dead agents – a hand suddenly rose from it and reached for him.

 **“NO!”** , he shouted when the mass reached the cot he is frozen on, crawling up along the edges and towards him. His body was not able to move, his breath stuck in his lungs as he felt himself shake and when he moved his head slowly it felt as if something was grasping it trying to force him to move a certain way. Not being able to fight against it he looked down into his lap, where his hands now rested.

Blood was smeared all over his hands, his legs nothing more than bloody stumps, his left arm nothing more than bones with the flesh torn from his bones. Genji knew he should be breathing but his body does not listen to his instincts anymore. Everything inside of him was screaming to breathe, to move, to _run._

Feeling the grasp on his head pushing once again he is forced to look up towards the two monks and choked sounds slip from his lips when he sees how an invisible hand cuts their throats, their robes getting slowly drenched by fresh blood and their bodies slowly sinking to the ground – lifeless.

Genji’s face was a frozen mask of agony, sobs slipping from his lips while hot tears found their path down his cheeks.

* * *

A credit to his subtlety, Mondatta neither seemed deterred, not threatened by the sudden defensiveness of the cyborg. He waved off the stranger’s aggressive tendency as if it were water off a duck’s back. If the man thought any of them defenceless, he would have been a fool. Not only was the stranger outnumbered, but he would also attack believing he knew the full measure of his targets. And that, logic dictated, was virtually impossible under the circumstances.

**“My name is Mondatta, as I am sure Zenyatta, here, explained. I founded this monastery some years ago.”**

Zenyatta wasn’t prepared to afford the stranger the same courtesy, reassurances or not. An orb, which had lain dormant on the window ledge, whistled its way through the air towards his waiting hand. Its trajectory halted, and its master confused when the soft pap of it landing in another palm entirely caused the younger monk’s head to snap around towards Mondatta’s direction. The elder, however, did not allow his gaze to leave Genji, even when he was placing the orb back upon its plinth in the gleaming sun.

 **“Apologies”** , Mondatta intoned, folding his hands, elegantly, in his lap, **“My student is a tad overprotective and…”** , dark eyes slid sidelong to regard Zenyatta, making the young monk shift uncomfortably beneath that gaze.  
**“ _overzealous_.”**

Zenyatta, wisely, chose not to comment. He knew when his master had designs on something, and this was very clearly one of those times. Yet he could not help but feel greatly unsettled. This man, this _Genji_ had to have come from somewhere, somewhere where the resources were far greater than the advancements made in Nepal. Everyone had their reasons for making the journey to their monastery, but none were ever quite so…on edge. Was he running from something? It bore further investigation, apparent dislike towards the man or not.  
Point in case, when he glanced up at Genji, the man was glowering back at him, the beginnings of a snarl curling one mangled lip, and those eyes – Those eyes had seen plenty.

Genji’s abrasive vitriol aside, he felt anything but comforted by his presence. There was a discord in him strong enough to rival any doubts he could have seeded with his orbs. Something deeply hidden, latent below the surface of whatever façade this was, a barrier erected to keep everything – and everyone – out.

But rather than offer indifference, he nodded a small acknowledgement the cyborg’s way.

 **“Your sword will remain as untouched as when it was deposited for safekeeping. You have my word.”** , Mondatta explained, **“It is yours whenever you wish to depart, however long or short your stay. You will have to forgive me for my ignorance, but I am unaware of your dietary needs. Are you hungry?**

The Shambali leader tilted his head quizzically, asking one of the many questions Zenyatta had asked himself. Genji drank water like he had spent his last weeks in the desert and that all had to go somewhere, didn’t it? So it stood to reason he would probably eat, too.

 ** _“No.”_** – Genji’s words managed to make even Mondatta frown, a slight sliver of unease slipping past the masque of calm he wore so well.  
**“No?”** , Zenyatta responded, confused. No, he wasn’t hungry, or no…what?

Zenyatta had already gotten to his feet and for once the older monk agreed with his very ready stance. Genji’s reality, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be slipping away from him in ways that neither of them could comprehend. It was like they weren’t even there anymore for the man seated in front of them.  
Erratic, red eyes darted around, looking at something upon the floor that neither monk could divine. Genji turned his hands this way and that, began to scoot back onto the cot again, clamouring, body tense and eyes wide with panic as mechanized digits grasped the fringes of the bedding tightly, wringing them.

 **“Genji, can you hear me?”** , Mondatta tried, still standing, firmly, between Zenyatta and his orbs.  
**“Are you all right?”**

Oh, he was anything but all right – Zenyatta thought and neither would they be if they didn’t do something _now_. Fight was not the correct response, but his instincts were screaming at him to do just that, safeguard the others, deal with a potential threat to his brothers. That, his better self reminded him, would not help.  
Steeling his nerves, he dared sit back down, hands resting at his sides, loose and relaxed, against all the odds. Against his better judgement, he had to try.

**“It is the fever, Genji. You have nothing to fear here. Be still.”**

* * *

Genji’s reality kept slipping further and further from his grasp. His view became distorted and the voices he began hearing sounded like they were coming to him through a thick veil or like he had been submerged in water – he couldn’t quite understand them. Instead of the loud voices, he kept hearing whispers, sounds that slithered their way into his brain, calling to him louder than any shouting could have ever reached him.

**_“Look at all the blood you have spilt,”_ **

Genji stared back at the floor through the haze, his vision blurry from the tears still falling freely from them. Hands formed from liquid, not at all solid form but constantly reshaping themselves and, kept reaching for him, soaking the edges of the bedding on which he was seated. He gripped the fabric tightly with his fingers, knuckles on his remaining human hand turning white, their cybernetic counterparts in the other hand creaking under the force.

**_“who says you won’t kill these monks too?  
You’re a monster after all!”_ **

The two men were moving in front of him, their lips moving, talking – but Genji couldn’t hear them. The cuts on their throats oozing with dark, red blood, their faces turning lighter and lighter. Their skin was slowly changing texture, shifting over their high cheekbones while the almost golden glow to it began to fade. Its texture changing to something almost liquid, losing its grip to bones and muscles, distorting the elegant features into horrific grimaces.

Genji’s breathing became faster and faster, short gasps of air painful in his damaged lungs.

**_“You were made to kill!  
It is your only purpose now!”_ **

**“NO!”** , the cyborg screamed, pushing himself even further back on the cot as the hands and bloody mass reached for his legs once again. Scooting back, he soon reached the end of the bed, falling backwards and hitting the stone ground with a painful gasp that pushed the air from his lungs. It hadn’t been a long fall, yet with how unexpected it had been, his body didn’t have the chance to feather him properly. His hands were tangled up in the bedding he had pulled off from the bed with him so he couldn’t have caught himself anyway.

Genji stared down at his body, once again seeing the bloody stumps that were once his legs, muscles and flesh torn from them, exposed and broken bones on show. The dark blood on the floor now reached him, slowly slithering over the burned and cut skin.

_**“WEAKLING!** _  
_**You have always been pathetic!** _  
_**Never the son anyone wanted! Just second-born.** _  
_**Unimportant** _  
_**They got rid of you because you were in the way** _  
_**Your own brother killed you!”** _

A choked sob slipped past Genji’s lips and he desperately pressed his eyes closed, an expression of pure terror on his face. Something suddenly pulled him back, his body falling backwards and as he felt a hand grasp his shoulders he was yanked back. His head hit the stones and his eyes flew open, a soundless scream escaping him, his mouth moving, begging for this to stop.

 **“No more, please…no. no more…”** , Genji begged, his head beginning to feel like it was being split in half, the ceiling above him spinning in front of his eyes while darkness began to slither into his view from the sides.  
He was sinking, falling into the blood on the floor.

There were images, fragments of memories passing in front of him. A sword that dripped blood, but it wasn’t Genji’s staining the blade. As he lifted his gaze, he saw his brother stand there, holding the sword tightly. Genji could see how he moved it upwards once more, slowly, before letting it fall in a swift blow, intended to end his life.  
Another scream tore through Genji’s body, voice hoarse and breaking up. By now his body twitched, limbs spastic as his brain got overloaded with the actual pain his body was still experiencing. The images of his memories, the hallucinations and the phantom pain gnawing at him on top of it all.

As he lay twitching on the ground, he suddenly saw movement in front of him, one of the monks began slowly approaching him. Genji couldn’t tell which one of them it was anymore, their faces misshaped by now and their robes crimson in colour, dripping with blood.

After he jerked upwards and into a more upright position, Genji tried to crawl backwards, to get away from the monster in front of him. Soon his back hit a wall behind him and he pressed himself against it, his gaze darting through the distorted room in front of him, unable to focus on anything.  
The dark liquid on the stone ground had almost reached him, collecting itself into a large mass of blood, distorted faces – frozen in time – appearing as the mass moved.

**_“You do not deserve to be saved”_ **

**“Please…”** , Genji replied in nothing more but a weak murmur, towards both the bloody monstrosity and the monk, that resembled only a corpse now, still slowly approaching him.  
**“Please…end this…please. No more…”** , he began begging now. Not to be saved but for it all to end. His body shook uncontrollably by now and the bloody mass seemed to answer his call, moving towards him. Slowly it began swallowing him…only to disappear the moment it would have taken all of Genji, who is left staring at the clean stone floor in front of him.

The feeling of drowning did not leave him though and it left him desperately gasping for air, his body burning. The liquid seemed to be burning inside his body, drenching his lungs and choking him from the inside. Violent coughs shook his body as his body first goes rigid before it began to jerk uncontrollably. Genji’s eyes shaking inside their sockets as he tried to focus on something in front of him before they roll up into his head, his body experiencing a full seizure, his brain shutting down as his body continued to jerk and choke.

The exhaustion of the journey, the exposure to the low temperatures and almost freezing to death, the infection and sickness, the pain from his limps as much as the phantom limbs and the lack of both food and sleep had finally broken Genji’s mental walls, bringing him to a breaking point.

* * *

The longer Mondatta went on, the more it became abundantly obvious what Genji was reacting to was not in the room with them in the here and now. Zenyatta didn't know quite when the switch had been turned, nor what it was Genji believed was happening, but the closer Mondatta got, the further away the sickened man attempted to crawl, metal fingers near clawing at the stone walls with a jarring screech.

Even though he might have some considerable cybernetics...this wasn't a malfunction, a soul resided within that body and it was a human being at the control. A sick human being still fighting off a serious fever.  
This time, Zenyatta didn't act on the wishes of his teacher, recalling a single orb to his hands against Mondatta's wishes. The older monk was already moving to clear a space for the stricken cyborg, who had since lapsed into seizures so bad he was convulsing where he had pitched severely, half on the cot - half on the floor.

 **"Zenyatta, help me here"** , he heard Mondatta ask, still as unflappable as ever, but the minuscule amount of edge he could divine from those tones was enough to tell the younger monk he was indeed greatly concerned.

 **"I _am."_** \- Zenyatta could afford no room for distraction, not when he was recharging the orb at a rate fast enough to leave himself detrimentally drained. Mondatta had asked him to attend as a test of his skill and tantamount to that would be reacting to an unexpected emergency.

Behind him, he could hear the sound of the other cot being dragged aside, the scant amount of bedding upon it rustling as it was pulled away, salvaging the pillows to rest against the nearby wall, should Genji inadvertently hit out against it. The orb, still resting in the palm of Zenyatta's hand began to wane in its clear ringing, signalling that he wasn't concentrating on it as hard as he could, a spike of fear-driven adrenaline coursing up his spine to burst in his skill.  
He tuned it all out - Genji, the sounds of movement in the background, even Mondatta's insistent pleas that he broke away from what he was doing.

If he could _just_ charge it enough…

A brilliant and argent, golden light emerged from within the orb's segmented structure, opening out, like a spherical puzzle box, floating mere centimeters above the palm of Zenyatta's hand. He could feel the warmth emanating from within its form, too much to contain, venting in thick waves of energy that soothed his soul just by holding it within touching distance. The light and warmth filled the room, startling his master enough that he, perceptively or not, stepped away from Genji the instant Zenyatta turned around, guiding the orb to rest, bobbing in mid-air, above the stricken man's convulsing body.

 _'Please work, please work'_  
No, he may not have trusted the man's intentions, but he was a living being, a being with a soul that, for one reason or another had been gravely damaged by the life that they had led up to this point, and the Shambali did not turn anyone in need away.

Through his connection the discord danced until the light glanced it, running virile and reckless in Genji's thoughts, it never saw what came for it. Obliterating its seeds of destruction everywhere the light touched, imbued by the will of the young monk standing barely three meters away, muscles bunched and body tense, limbs trembling under the force of that dissent. Zenyatta could feel the malady drain from the other's body inch by painstaking inch, measure for measure.  
There was so much, so much pain and anguish and... _blood._ Genji's soul was swimming in it, there it pooled beneath him, harbouring the darkest of all thoughts and sentiment, all of them clamouring for a piece of a broken man who had nothing left to give.

 **"Zenyatta-"** , Mondatta's voice called out to him from the fringes of this reality within realities, he turned his, now too heavy head in the older man's general direction, but ultimately lost sight of him in the swirling haze. What was this...what was happening?

**_"Zenyatta!"_ **

*****

A soft, familiar whir echoed in the back of Zenyatta's thoughts, his eyes opened and he squinted into the bright light of the room, just to find a set of teal optics staring back at him. How was it possible, he would reflect later, for a static face to look so exasperated? Not that Fon showed it in the way that he spoke, synth more than just a little relieved.

 **"Welcome back"** , he said gently, looking over to the side which Zenyatta could not see.  
**"You've had quite the journey. _Both_ of you."**

Zenyatta forced himself to crane his stiff neck in the same direction as Fon had looked, eyes drawing focus as they glimpsed Mondatta, beleaguered and shaking his head, expression painted rueful, but his eyes were full of acute relief.  
Zenyatta remembered now: Genji! The hallucinations, the tumultuous discord.

 **"Genji -"** , he began to speak, voice dry, sounding tinny to his own ears.

 **"Our guest is comfortable for now"** , Mondatta replied, gently nodding in the direction of the newly made up and rearranged cot.  
**"He has been resting for about an hour since your orb lost its charge."  
**There Zenyatta could see him, resting soundly, but for the odd twitch or flinch – Dreams, nightmarish of not, were better than convulsions, he supposed.

**"As should you."**

Zenyatta's eyes slid closed again, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, preemptively - he knew what was coming.

**"When you have your strength back, we can talk about what it was that I just witnessed."**

**"Master, I-"**

**"And why it can never happen again."**

The younger monk's head flopped back down against the pillow propping him up, the faintest sounds of a tired _'hnn'_ resonating at the back of his throat. He should have pretended he was still asleep. He glanced towards Mondatta one last time before the older man leaves the room,  
Maybe it was just good fortune - more than likely good fortune - or perhaps Genji really had been listening, when at that point they all heard the newcomer stir where he lay.


	3. Chapter Three

There was no peace for Genji even after he had slipped unconscious. Though he was free of the pain his body had assaulted him with, his mind had not calmed and memories were still racing through his head while his body laid convulsing against the walls of the infirmary, choked groans and whimpers still slipping from his lips.

Even with his mind in a state of chaos, his body reacted instinctively when he felt hands on his body, moving him and arranging things around him. Images of the monstrosities flickering immediately through his mind. His body convulsed and jerked in the hold that ultimately had served to hold him steady so he wouldn’t hurt himself. A string of whimpers slipped from his lips, begging to be left in peace, to be allowed to rest. Yet all of Genji was so high strung and on high alert that everything was perceived as a threat….and touch had never been something the cyborg handled particularly well.

Suddenly the hands that had been on him were gone though, as soon as they had appeared but nothing inside of Genji’s brain made any sense anymore. There was no concept of reality, time became irrelevant when one was trapped inside your own personal hell, forced to see over and over again that which you are suffering for and the sins you had committed. And even if his body had tried to shut off, his mind was still being assaulted.

With a gasp Genji jerked violently one last time before becoming absolutely rigid on the floor, his eyes wide open but unseeing as the golden orb settled above his body, hovering just slightly above it. It sent warmth into the cold, numb limbs of his body and the calmness that he had felt before washed over him once again.

Genji moved his head to the side slightly, by sheer force of will, and focused on the monk standing only a few meters away from him, basked in golden light – along with the rest of the room. Just when he was about to try and move so that he could see more of the room, his eyes fell closed again and his mind slipped into total darkness.

*****

Voices.  
It was the voices around him that woke him once again, but now at least he knew who they belonged to. Groaning in pain the more Genji’s body woke up, the more he became aware of everything that had happened before. Inside his mind, he begged to simply fall back asleep. He was still so tired…and who knew that if he opened his eyes, he would not simply see the same horrors again as he had before? How much time had passed since then? Minutes, or had it been hours? Maybe even days?

With every slow breath that he took, he could feel the exhaustion and pain that still lingered in his body. It had lessened significantly and yet with each breath he expected the pain to suddenly get worse again. An unending circle of dread and relief flooding his body when the pain did not return in its full force. And he was still so tired…would it not all be easier if he fell back asleep? His tiredness might get cured by sleep, his fatigue had a much deeper source than that. He didn’t want to fight anymore – even the strongest warrior lost his strength when the enemy is merely a phantom, a shadow they cannot fight…or defeat.

He stirred slightly on the cot he was lying on, moving his head so that I was facing to the side before slowly opening his eyes. Crusted as they were from the dried tears and sweat it took Genji a moment until he could see anything. His eyes burned and itched as a result of the crying, yet his arms felt too heavy to move them to ease the discomfort. His gaze darted around the room for a moment until the cyborg focused his gaze towards where the voices were coming from.

There he saw Zenyatta, lying on a second cot not far from his own, and when he sees that the man was indeed still breathing a sob slipped from his lips. The sound alerted the older monk in the room to his awaken and Genji briefly glances towards the tall man standing nearby.  
He had not killed them…they were alive!

 **“…”** , his attempt to speak was unsuccessful, his throat too agitated to produce the desired sounds to form words, only a weak croaking slipped from his lips.

* * *

Zenyatta raised a hand to his head, rubbing his face, tiredly, while he watched Mondatta retreat through one squinting eye. He knew what the talk would entail, and how much he was about to be berated for his effort. He had acted without thinking again and while his actions had paid off, they had done so at considerable risk to himself. Yet, oddly, Zenyatta couldn’t quite bring himself to care about that. Was that not what they were here for, to help people?

 **“He is upset because he worries for you, Zenyatta”** , the synthetic tones of Fon seeped into one ear, reminding the young monk that the omnic had been present for the entire exchange.  
**“You are not ready. And you have a lot of tasks ahead of you before you can be.”**

The sounds of Genji’s stirring lifted the omnics azure optics. Fon chirruped in that clucky way he often did whenever a waif or stray was under his care – he had been no different when Zenyatta had been deposited upon the steps of the village shrine one cold, bitter morning.  
**“Speaking of said tasks.”**  
A nod Genji’s way and Fon turned back to the nearby table to fetch the water again.

He would never admit it, but Fon now relished the moments Zenyatta actually needed him, when anyone did really. Since Zenyatta had become Mondatta’s student, the young man rarely returned to the small home he had appropriated for them, preferring to remain at the monastery proper, a cell provided for him to sleep in. Letting go was natural as a parent, surrogate or not. But it was never easy.

Zenyatta pulled himself upright, crossing his legs, full lotus when he turned on his cot to face the somewhat peaceful cyborg. The echoes of a shiver tingled along his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle at the thoughts of what he had caught glimpses of in those horrible moments not too long ago.

_Blood, so much blood on his hands, he was tired of it all, aching to lay down and rest his tired limbs, but the anger, the doubt, the betrayal would not let him. He would not let himself._

None of this made sense to Zenyatta, but he could hardly force it from Genji, nor did he wish to. If he had really come here seeking help, then perhaps he had been a little harsh in his judgement.

 **“How are you feeling?”**  
Silly question, he immediately thought to himself, the answer was ‘terrible’ just like this idea.  
**“I’m sorry, you probably just wish to rest.”**

He scooted back on the cot, the room spun ever so slightly, causing the monk to waver unsteadily. A mechanical hand planted itself in the centre of his back when Fon meandered by, a glass of water held in his other, offering it to Genji in tandem to holding Zenyatta steady.

**“So eager to shirk your responsibilities, are we? I hardly think Mondatta would approve of that, either.”**

Fon’s quip was not appreciated.

 **“Mondatta asked me to heal him, I have done all I can do here for now”** , Zenyatta replied, gently waving Fon’s hand away and pulling himself up to a stand. His knees felt partially gelatinous and his stomach queasy. How long had it been since he last ate? Not nearly as long as it had been for Genji, he was sure.

**“For the physicality of it, perhaps. But healing begins not only in body but in mind, too.”**

Zenyatta had to admit, the omnic had a point, but if Genji wasn’t going to speak to him, there was only so much he could do. They hadn’t started off on the right foot, but nor was Zenyatta the standoffish youth this man must have thought he was. And then there were those images…those flashes of anger, remorse, pain…  
He shivered, unable to hold back the imperative reaction before it shook his shoulders, and then craned himself around to look at the exhausted man, _Genji_ , yet again.

 **“You must be starving, you looked like you had been out there for days. If you like I can bring you some food.”  
**The offer was there if he wished for it. Zenyatta managed to catch Fon’s optics again, uttering a cheeky: **“I promise Fon did not cook any of it. We want you to feel welcome, not like we are trying to poison you.”**

A resounding grinding of gears emanated from the omnic, who stopped still, stiffly setting the jug of water down again with a heavy clunk.

**“I will have you know my files on human nourishment kept you alive from ages one through fourteen years, Zenyatta.”**

It was hard to keep in the snicker he felt bubbling up in the back of his throat, venting through his nose as soft ‘huff’; it never failed to wind Fon up. Fon, who’s cooking certainly kept him alive, but was less than appetizing once you knew what you were looking at.

**“ _That_ was before I discovered what good food actually tastes likes.”**

The light within those optics intensified, concentrated in small circles Zenyatta recognizes as mock-outrage.  
**“It is not too late to suggest to Mondatta that he shall give you library duty, you know?”** , Fon responded, dryly, then tilting his gaze to eye Genji.  
**“But he is correct, I did not make the food. If you would like, I can fetch you some.”**

* * *

The conversation that played out in front of him did not make much sense for Genji. He did not understand what the younger monk was not ready for and why the older monk had clearly been upset before he had left the room.

His head was pounding and his vision was still not entirely able to focus, so with a groan, he closed his eyes again, allowing them to rest, if only for a moment. Concentrating on the sounds around him, he listened to the shifting of the monk on his bedding, the cot creaking softly under his weight.

Opening his eyes again the cyborg would have laughed at the question posed but he was even too tired to muster up the strength for that. Only a slight snarl formed on his lips as he looked at the monk, he was feeling more dead than alive and the man across from him should know that. Genji moved his focus to the omnic that was now both steadying Zenyatta and holding out a cup of water to him.

Staring at the hand for a long moment, Genji considered his options. He certainly was thirsty, but he did not trust his body to be able to support himself in a seated position. The dryness of his mouth and the desperation rising inside of him, the longer he was looking at the cup of water, ultimately won against his worry. With a pained groan, the cyborg moved his body upwards, balancing his weight on his cybernetics arm while he reached for the cup with his human one.

Taking it carefully into his hand, he felt himself shake and he cursed beneath his breath as once again the water flows over the rim and down his hand. Desperately trying to keep his hand still he lets the conversation around him fade into the background while he greedily gulps down the water in fast motions. He flinched when he hears the jug being set down heavily, the sound startling Genji and baking him shift his focus back to the two other people in the room.

His eyes moved from the omnic to the monk and back, his focus on whoever was just talking, Genji was following their teasing with bewilderment. The two of them seemed to know each other quite well and the omnic had said something about keeping Zenyatta alive for fourteen years. Genji realized all of a sudden that the reason he finds their interaction so weird was that is all seemed so…normal.

Like something that could happen any day, at any time and not just when they had just taken in a dying man. But then again…how could they be so casual when Genji was right there at the end of the line, ready to give up everything including his life? With a pained groan, he pressed his eyes closed, moving his hand against the sockets of them, holding the cup in a tight grip still. He could already feel the voices, the whispers creeping up at him again inside his mind and this time they wanted him to do things…demanding him to do their bidding.

Breathing heavily through his noes he tried to push the demons back behind his mental walls and into their prison cells. He was beginning to feel dizzy and by not his upper body was shaking slightly, his arm that was supporting him close to giving out. Moving his human hand slowly away from his eyes, he opened them once again to look at Zenyatta.

Food.  
Genji had no idea when he had last eaten anything and he still did not seem to feel hungry, only a painful tug in his abdomen telling him that he should consider getting nutrients back into his body again.  
**“I-…I have no taste left so if you’d want to poison me, I would no even notice until I was dying of it”** , Genji replied, looking between the omnic and the monk. His gaze moved to the jug of water slightly behind the two of them and the water that must surely still be inside. He knew that water was no surrogate for actual substance, but it filled his stomach and made the painful feeling of hunger ease of ever so slightly.

**“I- I don’t feel hungry right now.”**

He did not like admitting to the flaws of his cybernetic body, if they thought that he did not need to eat frequently then the monks would likely leave him be with the topic. And he was not lying when he said he wasn’t hungry. Well…not exactly anyway.

Lying back down on his back with a sharp intake of breath and a painful moan following, he stared back at the ceiling of the small room finally giving his arm a rest. His mind could no longer separate the different sources of pain in his body, morphing it into a feeling of hurting all over and the desperate wish for it to all end.

* * *

Fon leaned back on his heels, a sign that he either didn’t believe the newcomer or he was about to leave regardless. Zenyatta surmised the former, mostly because he, too, did not believe Genji. He had been sullen since the moment he arrived; understandable given the state he was in, but he knew he’d done enough to restore at least some of the man’s faculties. Maybe the joke about Fon’s cooking had been too much? He wasn’t very good at this.

 **“Well, I can only reassure you that Zenyatta is exaggerating. There is absolutely nothing wrong with my methods, he has clearly been spoiled since leaving my care”** , the omnic informed, the cant of his head in Zenyatta’s direction the equivalent of sticking his tongue out at his charge. He reached across, to the table, and grabbed the cloth slung over one side, bending down, old limbs creaking, to mop up the spill of water Genji had made.

 **“You said you were out there for weeks, there are few animals on the slopes to catch, there is no cover for them and the villages are few and far between”** , Zenyatta chipped in, ignoring the playful banter with Fon and replacing it with genuine concern. Mondatta hadn’t left him here to simply contemplate his actions, there was a clear and valid reason for him to remain, given all he had done thus far.

 **“You drink, so you must eat. Please, you will need your strength if you intend to stay here.”  
**Cold, hard facts could jog a person’s inclinations, the had him, but that had been different, Zenyatta mused, he had not been in nearly as bad a shape as Genji was now.

And those inner demons he was fighting made his soul ache at the memory.

Fon spared the younger monk a sympathetic glance, optics twinkling in a pretty little pattern – at least he seemed cognizant of what it was Zenyatta was trying to coerce Genji into. He had taught such was to the boy himself.  
**“How about I go and fetch whatever is left over from the evening meal and bring it to you?”** , the whir of servos indicated that Fon was gesticulating at the newcomer **, “Genji, if you feel hungry enough to eat, you may help yourself whenever you choose. Zenyatta, try and leave something for our guest, hmm?”**

And with that the omnic placed down the cloth he had been using to mop up the water spillage, the liquid heavy cloth slapping against the stone, eliciting a squelch that was almost comical. Fon turned on his heel to leave them, metal feet clicking and clacking as they went, proof enough that he was leaving the two of them alone, and once again, Zenyatta found himself at an empty loss for what to say, much less do, with this stranger.

Sitting there, just as he had remained during his conversation with Fon, he tried not to wince or grimace every time Genji released a pained sound, wondering is his overexertion had been worth it at all. This man was so damaged, so scorned, so…broken. Never before had he believed someone to be unfixable, but this? Genji was beyond everything he had ever encountered before and if this was a test from Mondatta then he was almost certain he would fail.

 _Persistence_ – Zenyatta’s mind insisted, much like the term itself – _Persistence will pay off_. _You know these hardships, you know how to overcome them, you have done so before._

This was true, he had, yet nagging doubt began to seep in, black and toxic, through the cracks in his certainty: _That was different_ , they told him, _that was nothing like this, how could you even compare?_

 **“He means well, you know. As do all of us”**  
He could leave now, catch Mondatta before meditation and speak with him about what had happened, or he could remain, try his utmost. The monk’s head dropped, chin barely grazing his chest, heaving a burden laden sigh. Genji might have been ready to give up, but he wasn’t.  
**“This is my home; these people are the closest thing I have to a family and I would defend them with my life. But that does not mean you are unwelcome, nor that I would not extend the same protection to you if you really mean what you say.”**

Throughout it all, he kept his head turned away, regarding that same spot on the floor where the cyborg’s knees had chipped the stonework, revealing fresh, pale granite below, its facets shimmering prettily in the daylight.  
Another sigh eased past his full lips, soothing, tempering the welling storm inside his mind.

**“And I know you do. I have seen it.”**

* * *

Before Genji had the chance to say anything more on the topic, he could already see the omnic leave. He had turned his head to the side to indicate that he was still listening, or at least trying to, to their conversation but his brain was not fast enough to come up with a reply on time. It had barely even registered the words when the omnic was already gone.

They were both right, of course, he had not had a real meal in a long time, and he had come here to find a way to live, to stay here and learn, if possible. He would need his strength for that. But that had all changed the moment the snowstorm had hit on his way up the mountain, the sharp winds ripping the last hope for a better life and the last strength to pursue that goal from him…leaving him in the state he was in now. Feeling empty, numb and desperate on the one hand and on the other he was feeling too much, too many thoughts, emotions and memories attacking him.

It was so loud inside his head, that the silence that settled between him and Zenyatta felt almost heavy, pressing down on Genji’s chest and making it even more uncomfortable and hard to breathe. The cyborg felt the monk’s eyes on him but could not tell what he was thinking, though he saw his face shift slightly whenever he let out a pained sound. Even though he certainly was a mess, in more sense than one, he did not want this man’s pity!

Just when Genji had closed his eyes, thinking that Zenyatta would either sit there in silence or leave him, he heard the man’s voice once again. Opening his eyes, he looked over to the cot the monk was sitting one, seeing that the man had averted his gaze down into his lap.

Genji knew that he was staring at the monk with side-eyes when he had finished speaking. His body frozen and his mind immediately on high alert, going over the man’s words again and again.

 _“I have seen it”_ – What exactly had he seen and how? What did he know about Genji?!

Moving slowly as to not exhaust his body too much, Genji sat upon his cot, cross-legged, upper body slumped slightly forward but still tense and alert. He was being offered a safe place to stay, considering everything that had happened up to this point and the monks still not knowing anything about him, that was quite a generous offer and yet Genji could not let himself believe that it might be this easy.

Sitting across from each other now Genji looked at the ground to the broken stones, following Zenyatta’s gaze, before he looked back up at the monk itself.

 **“What have you seen?!”** , Genji asked, his voice tight and defensive. He was steeling himself to get up and leave, should the need arise. He would flee from this place if need be, find his sword and run. To find a final resting place somewhere in these mountains where no one would be able to find him, to use him for anything anymore. He was done with being used. No more.

He just wanted to be left alone…  
and yet a voice inside of his mind screamed at him to accept the offer to stay, to allow himself to experience company. The craving for it so strong inside of him that it was making his chest clench painfully. How low had it been since he had last felt a friendly touch?

But then again…did he even deserve a gentle touch after everything he had done?

* * *

It took a while, but the silence was broken by the creaking of the rickety cot, the rumpling of meagre blankets being pulled aside a small distance behind him.  
Zenyatta did not move, nor flinch, no outward twitch that could have been construed as the inclination to move – he did not even turn around. Trust, he knew, was important. But how long was one to trust a hope before it became foolishness? The young monk snorted inwardly, how he sounded like Mondatta.

Of course, Genji would have asked that question, the one question Zenyatta had no definitive answer for, because he, himself, did not understand what had occurred. The scenes, so vivid to him, he could have reached out and touched the faces he saw, smelled the copper tang of blood in his nostrils, olfactory forcing his mind to recoil at how overwhelming it had all been. And still, to this very moment, the raw ringing of anguished screams in his ears. What it all meant, he could no comprehend. The only word that resonated, loud and true, in his thoughts throughout it all was quite clear, if frustratingly broad: _Pain._

 **“I…I don’t know”** , he said, voice tight, nigh on choking him.

That wouldn’t be good enough, he knew, Genji’s tone of voice suggested he had much to hide and by the grace of the Iris, Zenyatta could tell that certainly seemed to be true. But a danger to them all, or the life and times of a very unfortunate man? A glimpse at that body would have suggested his trials and tribulations were numerous, the extent to which he had been modified spoke of a necessity, not a choice.

The tubes and wires that linked what was still flesh and bone to the cybernetics opposite appeared to be what kept him breathing. How much of the original Genji was left beneath it all, Zenyatta did not wish to hazard a guess? But physical cybernetics was not the only thing a person could modify themselves with; there were mind-enhancing modifications, nodes that could be inserted into brains, to alter the way in which they processed information…all highly illegal pf course, but there had been talk, he had heard of it before. Amplified rage could drive the sanest of persons to commit the most heinous of acts…yet Genji’s head showed no outward sign of modifications to the upper part of his skull beyond the framework.

He had come here seeking help, and what possible reason could the outside world have to send an assassin to trouble a small group of monks who’s order rarely ventured outside of the Himalayas?  
There was Mondatta to consider, the travelled often, raised awareness around the world. That thought sobered Zenyatta faster than he would have liked, an icy tendril winding its way around his heart, squeezing, _suffocating._

He was overthinking this, he had to be.

 **“Before, when you passed out, when I was trying to help you, I thought I-“**  
Zenyatta had to consciously will the tension from his shoulders to disperse, if he was tense then the other could see it as a sign he knew too much. And maybe he did.  
**“It was nothing. I overreached my limits when I tried to heal you and exhausted myself, I thought I saw something, that the Iris was…”** , sighing, he leaned back, head lolling, face upturned towards the ceiling and he just _breathed._

After what would have seemed like an eternity to the impatient, Zenyatta straightened again, adjusting the fall of his kasaya’s creases, before half-turning at the waist. He could see Genji in his periphery, on edge, expectant, or was it irritation? Those crimson eyes were impossible to read.  
**“If you intend to stay you will learn enough about the Iris to understand.”**  
_\- I’m just no longer sure how much I understand –_ Zenyatta thought, contemplating leaving before Fon returned with the food he had been promised.

No…he had disappointed enough people for one day, he didn’t need to do one of his infamous disappearing acts to rub salt into the wound. Besides, who would watch the patient if he was not here, who would keep him entertained?  
Zenyatta risked a proper look at the cyborg, whose body sat alert and upright, the most attentive he had seen the man look to date – Attentive, and about as cheerful and inviting as a rabid dog.

 **“I shouldn’t be telling you these things while you are still unwell. You need to eat, to rest and to fight off the infection. After that, it’s up to you”** , Zenyatta said, shifting to face Genji, keeping half an eye on the door.  
**“They are good people; Mondatta, the others, whatever happened, whatever it is you are seeking, they can help, but you first need to help yourself.”  
**And what of himself, Zenyatta wondered, what was his part to play in all this? There was an undeniable draw to this person, to seek what had caused his experience, to help – and yet part of him wanted to recoil, to retreat to the communal baths, deserted at this time of day, scrub himself until the blood he had seen staining his hands, his body, washed away…

What had _happened_ to Genji?

* * *

Genji watched the monk closely as he was struggling to form an answer to his question, his posture almost dismissive towards him. Even with the monk not showing any outward reactions, it was palpable in the air between them that inside Zenyatta’s head many thoughts were crashing into him, yet their origin stayed a mystery to Genji.  
Zenyatta’s reply left Genji unsatisfied and his face morphed into a snarl. How could the monk have _seen_ anything when it had all been inside Genji’s head?! That was not possible! Maybe he had underestimated the monks that lived so secluded…maybe there was more to the fact that they were living so far from other humans. More than the spiritual side of the calmness surrounded by mountains. Who knew what exactly they were practising here…

Genji’s body tensed as he continued to watch the monk closely, he was battling with his very own thoughts, but at the same time telling Genji about whatever had happened earlier. Seeing the man fidget before stilling and staring at the ceiling unnerved the cyborg and his own body began radiating nervous energy, fueled by the urge to move, even when his limbs were screaming at him in pain. Just sitting upright was exhausting.

 **“The…Iris?!”** , Genji asked, interrupting the man, but Zenyatta did not seem to care, continuing before finally moving to look at Genji. His posture straightened when the monk’s gaze flickered to his face. He felt like Zenyatta was not even looking at him rather through him...No, into the depth of his soul.

Genji felt more confused than before he had asked his question, the monk not making any sense with his explanation and simply throwing facts out there that Genji could not understand. His mind reeling with the concept of whatever this ‘Iris’ was.

 **“I-…”** , Genji began to speak, looking at the man and then back down into his lap.  
**“I said so before: I am not hungry”** , Genji said, trying to steel his voice to sound more convincing. Even back in Blackwatch, he had had trouble with asking for help and it had been even harder for him to accept it if it was offered. How could he do so now?

A thought occurred to Genji and he contemplated it for a moment as he tried to centre his mind and not let it drift off into the numbness that seemed to spread throughout his body.

 **“What if I do not wish to help myself? What if I have come here to d-“** , Genji’s voice broke, not able to finish speaking the thought that had been ghosting inside his mind since he woke up. There was nothing left for him to live for so why shouldn’t he simply end it all now? The monks, whatever practices or secrets they were hiding up here in the Himalayan mountains, would not need to help him get back to full health if he could not appreciate their effort, not be thankful for them keeping him alive.

And how would these monks be able to help him anyway? Zenyatta seemed to be confident in their ability to guide him to a path to something better, but how would they do that with Genji being the way he was?  
He would only be a risk to them and expose them all to dangers that even Genji did not know the full extent off. His body and its strength on the one hand and his mind and the curse of his family’s name on the other. The two things combined…not even Genji knew what might happen.  
Slowly Genji moved his legs to the edge of the cot. If he left now, he might still be able to leave before any harm came to the monks. They had no way of knowing what danger Genji posed to them, even if he had no intent to ever hurt them.

Every move the cyborg did, every shift of his body reminded the man of his pain and the images his brain had made him see. Shaking his head softly he pushed himself from the cot, staggering where he stood but focusing the last of his strength into not falling over again. Staring at the floor to force his body to obey his will Genji clenched his jaw tightly, a low growl coming from his lips.

Just when he looked up towards the monk Genji heard the door to the small room open again and he jerked his head towards it. The omnic, Fon, was back holding a tray with food in front of him. He had forgotten about him…

* * *

**“Yes, the Iris”,** he repeated, the slight twitch to one side of his face wrinkling his nose a tad - was Genji cognizant of where he had arrived, of who they were?  
**“It embraces us all.”**  
It was a little soon to be waxing philosophical about the origins of the Iris, or indeed just how important it was to Genji’s particular plight.

Zenyatta would have been more comfortable to do so, were it not for the latent feelings still swimming beneath his skin, pressing at the boundaries of his thoughts, just begging to be given their moment in the light once more. What had he witnessed in those oh-so-brief moments? What had those thoughts meant to show him?

Genji’s repetition, the reaffirmation that he was not hungry almost passed the young monk by, slipping, so easily, through the heavy veil of consciousness that had become clouded and clogged by his own inner turmoil. He wanted to know more, but he did not want to ask, how did one begin to broach such a subject when for all intents and purposes, it seemed too horrific to be real.  
He tossed another, sympathetic, glance Genji’s way, sighing when he registered what had been said. He was lying, he had to be lying, the man could barely hold himself upright earlier.  
**“I cannot force you to eat”** , he said, solemn, circumspect under the circumstances.  
**“But nobody can help a dead man.”**

The direction this man’s thoughts had taken veered dangerously close to the sentiments conveyed in the feelings he had felt earlier. Why had the Iris gifted him that, above all things? Why couldn’t it have shown him the answers…what if he got this completely wrong?  
Discord, it seemed, was contagious and Genji was riddled with its effects. He had been alone too long, hurt out there in the wilderness for longer. And now, when salvation was within his grasp, he didn’t dare to hope, to believe he could have more than that which life had dealt him.

That was when Genji rose, wavering, only a little on finely tuned legs, that looked even more impressive when in motion. The subtle whir that came with omnic limbs was barely present, next to silent, raising a number of new questions the monk was not about to ask now. Because it soon became apparent what the other was doing - or more poignantly, _where_ he was going.

 ** _“You_** **are in no fit state to le -”**

To his left, the door swung open, coming to a soft halt against the rolled-up rug ‘stopper’ leaning against the wall. Fon ambled in, a tray of food in his hand with two bowls of steaming hot rice and some vegetable concoction that Zenyatta hadn’t cared to identify just yet. Genji had his full attention now and if the cyborg believed he was walking out of here in this state, Zenyatta would…would do what, exactly?  
The notion struck him dumb right there and then; what could he do, if Genji truly wished to leave, let him go? Wait until he was found unconscious in the snow and dragged back to the village for the denizens there to care for?

 **“Going somewhere, are we?”** , Fon’s conversational tone sounded so out of place in Zenyatta’s thoughts that it almost threw him completely, prompting the monk to flounder a little with his words, lips moving, but no sound emerged. Not for want nor force.  
**“Night will fall long before you can reach the nearest village, are you sure that is wise? At least stay until your infection has cleared.”**

The omnic set the tray down, carefully, upon the small side table, turning to look at Zenyatta - still seated - and then back at Genji again. Had he interrupted something?  
  


* * *

The omnic’s entire posture and tone made Genji feel like a fool. He was aware that he would not reach the village or anything that could serve as a shelter to him before night would fall. But that was the point! Did they not understand that he ached for the nothingness that death would bring him?

He watched the omnic place down the tray of food while he stood in front of his cot on shaking legs. The smell of food began waving through the small room and Genji could feel his stomach cramp painfully in a sudden surge of hunger and sickness. Staggering forward on unsure legs he tried to go for the door, ignoring what had just been said to him.

His feet dragging over the stone floor made him lose his balance a few times and before he could reach the door, he staggered over a slightly raised stone in the floor. Catching himself against the wall with a pained moan he half-turned to glare at the monk and omnic. His anger was not directed at them, rather at himself and his body. As advanced as it was, currently it was useless. Pain and the exposure to such harsh temperatures taking a toll on the cybernetics.

Lost in the pain coursing through his body and mind and to the demons attacking his mind, he had not seen the omnic approach. Even without a human face to read emotions off, Genji was able to feel the worry that was radiating from Fon. He did not want their pity! He wanted…He did not know what he wanted anymore.

Words were spoken, directed at him most likely as Fon stopped in front of him. Genji was staring at him with unseeing eyes, the shaking of his legs beneath him increasing as he pushed himself against the wall even further in a desperate attempt not to slide down and end up on the ground again.

What snapped Genji back to reality was the movement of the omnic’s arm, reaching out towards him. Most likely to steady him, help him in one way or another. Genji did not know, he had not listened to him. Moving to the side in a violent jerk of his limbs, the cyborg shuffled backwards against the wall and closer towards the corner of the room.

 **“DON’T TOUCH ME!”** , he shouted, panic clear in his voice and his posture. Breathing heavily, he glared at the omnic who had not moved towards him from the spot he had been in previously. Everything was becoming too much too fast.

Sliding down the wall to crumble into a mess on the floor Genji began to feel himself shake. Now that he was fully awake, his mind began bombarding him with thoughts, memories, plans on how everything could be better, different, _final_. It was like a thousand voices were talking to him at once. Letting his head hit the wall behind him, the blow silencing his thoughts - if only for a moment - he looked up and towards the monk.

 **“I can’t do this anymore…”** , he whispered.  
His voice was weak but the meaning behind the words heavy. It felt like his chest was being ripped open with the force these few words held.

 **“I do not know what else there is for something like me except…death. I do not deserve your help”** , tears were streaming down his face by then, he felt them on his scared skin and yet he could not find the will to care. He felt ashamed for admitting these words out loud, to complete strangers as well. But what was there to lose when everything was already broken and lost?

**“I should have died all these years ago!”**  
  


* * *

Fon immediately backed off as rapidly as if he had been struck, hands held at chest height, palms open, placating. He would not have stood in Genji’s way, but nor would he have let him fall to the floor again. He was in no state to go anywhere and wishing for death to find him in such a hostile environment was a testament to both his mental state and how delusional he was with it. There would be no peaceful slipping away, no warmth to follow the bitter bite of the sub-zero gales. Nothing but inhospitable, brutal nature between the injured man and his goal. Was he really willing to face all of that just to make it all stop?

Yes, Fon supposed, he was, but for all the wrong reasons.  
**“You can”** , he spoke surely, resolute in his determination to make Genji see it, even for just a moment. **  
“You can because you have come this far, you made it to us with a purpose. I do not believe you did so just to give up upon our doorstep.”**

Zenyatta watched them both, eyes slowly moving from one to the other, noting how incredibly still the entire room had become, down to the stifling air that appeared to stagnate around them. Fon knew what he was doing, but not who he spoke to, this was the element of chaos, one that could shift the balance out of the old omnic’s favour. He wanted to tell him, to shout, to scream what he’d seen, what he’d felt, yet Zenyatta found himself rooted to the ground, unable to find the words to speak without tipping that tenuous balance himself.

**“You have faced hardships no soul should have to face. I need not know what, or when nor even why. Others have come to us here facing similar trials, for better or worse, many of the foolish choosing their path to be the one you attempt to take now and I could not tell you what became of half of them. I can tell you that the rest remained, found themselves again, some of them even remained with the Shambali.”**

At this, Fon shifted his helm so that it tilted towards Zenyatta, who was still doing his best impression of a person trying not to look out of place.

It was true, though. He had tried to leave for a time, strikeout and make his mark on the world. And how it had ended had not been pretty, within the small matter of a month his world had fallen apart, his soul cracked and broken, oozing regret into a mind that had never had the chance to steel itself against such realities. But Genji didn’t need to hear that tale now, not when his own was so raw.

Genji had since retreated, collapsed on the floor beside the cot, body scraping loudly as it clunked down across uneven wall blocks. It did not set Zenyatta’s teeth on edge, but he could not help but grimace, sadly. Broken souls, truly broken, were the hardest to mend, and this man had both his mind and body shattered.

He had been right in the first instance; it did not matter what had happened, what mattered was finding a means to move past it and then deal with everything else as it came to him. But how did one convince a man who longed for death to long for life? For once, Zenyatta wished Mondatta was here to deal with this. To offer guidance.

 **“He speaks the truth, Genji”** , the younger monk supplied, without offering up the _how_ he knew. **  
“You were not meant to die and I sense that deep down you know this too. Why else would you have come here?”**

Pushing up off of the cot, he stepped over its narrow width, the hem of his kasaya brushing the worn canvas bedding and giving a small glimpse of brushed steel footwear beneath. So fleeting was it, that it was quick enough to make one wonder if they had seen right at all. And so innocuous it was, perhaps they wouldn’t consider it at all.  
Zenyatta paused a comfortable distance away from the collapsed cyborg, bending slightly at the waist to offer him assistance, a hand. It was entirely up to Genji if he took it, but the monk refused to show fear. They would get through to him one way or another.

**“Rest or rest not. That choice is yours. But do not lie to yourself, very few things in this world are irreparable, including you.”**  
  


* * *

Genji wanted to scream, to shout, lash out and tell the two of them that they were wrong, that they had found the one thing in the world that could not be repaired – not a second time at least. But he couldn’t find the energy or will to do so. Instead, he moved his head to let it hit the wall behind him once again, letting his tears continue to wash down his face.

They reminded the cyborg of his time in Blackwatch, where others had pushed him forward, kept him going, and created a safety net in which Genji had been able to fall back into. It hadn’t always worked, especially in the beginning and his violent nature had caused much fear among the lower-ranked agents. And nothing had helped Genji through the worst of his episodes when he could only see the destruction he caused and the death he had survived.

Slowly he looked towards the monk standing in front of him only a few paces away, his face showed no lies, no deception, no darker intentions – only the will to help even though they knew nothing about him. Even if the monk did not show any fear outwardly, Genji knew it was there. Whatever the man had seen or how he had seen it, it had shaken him. It was clear in his behaviour and Genji couldn’t blame him…his thoughts and experiences were nothing for the faint of heart.

But was the monk as naïve as Genji had first thought? The omnic seemed to speak from experience himself and his gaze towards Zenyatta had been more than telling about the past they obviously shared.

Moving his gaze to the outstretched hand, Genji couldn’t help the dry chuckle that slipped from his lips. Had the man not heard what he had just shouted? Had he not seen his clear reaction to being touched or just the possibility to being touched? Maybe the monk was naïve in different ways, he might know suffering, but he was still…strange.

Genji’s body had been covered in blood one too many times to consider him clean still. He was tainted both by blood and the demons residing inside his mind. The monster he had been made into, the object that he called his body would only bring foulness to others and his curse might spread. He did not know when he had last felt a friendly touch to his body, not even by himself.

Blinking slowly Genji suddenly realized how tired he has become. The short walk and crumbling to the ground, again, had exhausted his body’s energy reserves once again. His stomach was still cramping and telling him to fill it with the steaming food on the small table nearby.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose before letting the air out with a long, drawn-out groan as he heaves his body off the ground. Helping himself with clawing at the wall for support.  
He was weak but he did not need the help from the monk. Standing on shaking legs once again, his body hunched forward, his human arm holding his stomach tightly as he looked towards the food once again. Taking a step forward, he stumbled again immediately and grabbed the wall for support yet again.

He wouldn’t be able to reach the table, no matter how hard he tried and crawling there was out of the question, that would too humiliating. Looking towards his cot, which was closer to where he was standing right now, Genji decided it was the safest course of action to go back to it. With another deep breath, he collected the last of his strength reserves before he began walking over to the bed, sinking down on it as soon as he reached it. Not his most graceful of moves but he was past thinking about these things.

**“I admit I have been lying to you…I would be delighted to try some of that food”**

* * *

Zenyatta took a step back, gait relaxed, rescinding the hand he had assumed Genji would not take, regardless of if he needed the help or not. Pride, he knew, came before the fall, and it was often the first thing to soothe once someone found their feet again. He would not slight him for that, this man had been through enough. But when Genji admitted he would actually quite like the offered food, it was more than he could do to stop himself from allowing a smile to creep across his lips. Persistence and hard work paid off - he could almost see Mondatta nodding his head from here.

 **“Here”** , he said, turning to grab one of the stoneware bowls and pass it across to the now seated cyborg.  
**“If you need any more, please just ask. Our donors are very generous and they often bring too much.”**  
Good for the travellers, good for the monks, it kept them fed during the snowy months when their stores were fully stocked.

 **“It will be dropping dark soon, these halls can become frigid with cold. I will be back to bring you some extra blankets.”,** Fon spoke up, fussing with the jut of Zenyatta’s tasselled sash when the younger leaned across in front of him - much to the other’s annoyance.  
**“I’m afraid you will have to remain here tonight, but a room can be found for you come morning. Better that you are here where we can contain and monitor that infection. If you need anything, anything at all, I am just down the hall, first left.”**

Zenyatta took that to mean Fon would take his leave, which left him in a rather awkward position yet again. If he stayed, he wasn’t sure he could make conversation with a man who had so few words. If he left, he risked leaving Genji with those terrible thoughts of his. Neither was an appealing prospect, but Zenyatta would need to rest sometime.  
He sat down on the edge of his cot facing Genji, bowl between his hands to warm them, and lazily dipped his spoon into the food within. Physically, Zenyatta felt strong enough now that he could easily head out and go about his duties, yet mentally, he dreaded what would follow in the coming days. Would he be finding rest this night? It was a question, given what he had seen, he was not certain he could answer without self-doubt.

So he ate, the silence stretching between the two of them not uncomfortable, but solid, pockmarked by the sounds of bowls being emptied and the odd crunch. A small bridge had been placed across the metaphorical gap, and now from there they could only build, or so Zenyatta hoped. By the time his spoon was scraping the bottom of the bowl, he had mentally prepared himself for what he would do next: Reflection. He needed time to decompress, to work out what it was that had happened, and Genji needed time to let that food, and his body settle.

 **“I should give you some privacy, but here…”**  
That same, clear-ringing, whistle resonated through the air, a single, golden orb recalled to the monk’s hand. It still held some of the charge from earlier, it would be just enough, if it was used sparingly, to get Genji through the night.  
“If you feel too tense to sleep, hold this between your hands and concentrate. I promise it works no matter who does it. You cannot charge it…at least not yet, but it should have enough left to help.”  
He dropped it down onto the canvas of the bed’s surface, leaving the other to decide if he wished to pick it up, whilst recalling all eight others, the mélange of mala clustering tightly around his neck, each jostling the other as he moved.

**“I will return in the morning to check on you. Please consider all we have said.”**

Setting the bowl upon the tray, he left it where it was to collect the following day and turned on his heel to head to the door. Reaching it, hand still resting firmly on the pull and his back to the room, Zenyatta paused.  
**“Good night, Genji. And welcome.”**

  
*****

The thick blanket of darkness had descended fully over the mountains by the time Zenyatta reached his cell. Slipping in silently, he believed himself to be the consummate stealth-walker and very adept at it too. It was only when he closed the door behind himself, when he was facing his bed, hands slipping off the bulky, beaded, sash from around his waist, did he realize his self-congratulation was woefully premature.

 **“I see I should be adding forgetfulness to your list of betterment”** , Mondatta’s voice called softly from the little alcove beside the door, where Zenyatta kept a small stash of scripts and books, his master settled on them like he had made himself right at home. When the younger monk suddenly drew himself up straight, limbs pulled in towards his central mass, Mondatta took a moment to smirk.

 **“Could you not have knocked?”** Zenyatta retorted, clutching a hand, tightly, to his chest, staggering back in relief while Mondatta chuckled.

 **“Would you have answered?”** \- No answer - **“Actually, reprimanding you is not why I came, although if you believe your little discretion today will go unmarked, you are mistaken.”** , Mondatta steepled his fingers, bringing them to his lips for a pause.  
**“I came to ask what it was you saw.”**

 **“ _Saw_?”**, Zenyatta froze amid folding the sash into a neat compact form.  
**“I don’t underst-”**

 **“When you touched the halo of the iris, you saw something. I wish to know what it was.”  
**The younger monk swallowed hard. How had he known unless this was what always happened? Mondatta, or one of his calibre, would have done thus on more than one occasion, they had the knowledge. Did he not trust Genji now? This was a different tune to the one he sung earlier, but perhaps he was reading too much into it. Now, however, Zenyatta felt utterly ridiculous. Where did he begin if not for the one thing that stood out among them all…not the blood, not the anguish, although it was certainly there. There had been something amid it all, desperate, in pain…

He looked up at his teacher for the second time.

**“I…saw a dragon.”**


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for slight gore (description of Genji's body after the fight with Hanzo)

Genji carefully accepted the bowl of food and set it on his lap so he wouldn’t spill anything with how his hands were shaking. Taking in a deep breath, he inhaled the scent of it, his stomach responding with a loud grumble and a painful cramp. Picking up the spoon and grabbing it tightly in a desperate attempt to keep it from shaking he slowly began to eat, curling in on himself to move his face closer towards the bowl so the distance between it and his mouth would be short. He did not want to make a mess of himself simply because he couldn’t keep the food on his spoon.

The cyborg nodded in acknowledgement of the omnics words but shifted his focus swiftly back to the warmth that spread inside his mouth as he chewed the food. As he had feared he did not taste anything and not knowing what exactly it was that he was eating made his stomach do a little flip-flop. Genji was able to calm himself down, watching the other monk eat.

Once he swallowed the first bite his motions become desperate, his body suddenly realizing just how long it had gone without any sustenance. He began shovelling the food into his mouth as quickly as he could, trying to not make too much of a mess of himself while not even chewing properly, only focusing on getting the food inside of him.  
When he finished, he felt slightly sick, his stomach – as much as it had demanded the food – was not used to having anything in it and for a moment the cyborg felt nauseous. Concentrating on setting the spoon into the bowl and slowly putting it down to the ground he tried to calm his stomach. It would take time for his body to get used to the intake of food again.

Looking up towards the monk as he began speaking, Genji noticed the golden orbs floating around the man’s neck like a necklace while one was passed to him. Immediately his body seemed to recall the feeling of peace that had washed over him earlier that day when the monk had used it to heal him and a deep ache inside of himself made Genji startle. He listened to the instructions given to him, intrigued by how the orb seemed to work. Charging it? With what…? But these were questions he would not ask now…some other time, he promised himself.

Just when he had thought the monk had left, having shifted his focus to the orb next to him rather than the man at the door, he startled when he is being spoken to once again.  
 **“Good night”** , he softly murmured as he watched the monk leave, the door silently closing behind him, leaving Genji alone with his thoughts and a single orb that already seemed to radiate warmth and peace.

*****

Genji did not know how long he had been simply sitting on the edge of the cot, staring either at the cracks in the floor or the wall across from him, when a soft knock shook him from his numb staring. Shortly after the omnic stepped inside with a pile of thick looking blankets piled on his arms.

Putting them down on the lower end of the cot and reaching for the bowl in front of Genji’s feet, Genji couldn’t help the small flinch when he thought the omnic might try to touch him again. Instead, Fon simply crooked his head to the side and placed the bowl next to the one Zenyatta left on the tray.  
 **“Try to rest and should you require anything, you know where to find me”** , the omnic said before he left again quietly.   
Now that Genji was awake and alone in this room he noticed how quiet this place was for the first time. Only the faint sound of wind whistling, passing between the different houses and the jingle of soft bells from the wind chimes carrying over to him. It felt truly… _peaceful_.

A shiver running down his entire body broke Genji’s trail of thoughts and he concentrated back on reality. It had already gotten colder inside the room, his human skin noticing the shift in the air quicker than his cybernetics. Reaching to the side of him towards the pile of blankets he took the first one and wrapped it around his shoulders, not folded out completely but instead covering him in two layers to keep his upper body warm. The most important parts of his body had to stay warm after all and his body did not generate as much heat on its own anymore as it had once done.

Unfolding the last two blankets he laid them over each other and then onto his body as he let himself fall slowly to the side, to lay down on the cot. Moving to lay on his side Genji curled up on himself, placing the golden orb in the small space created at his abdomen. Just the act of lifting and unfolding, arranging and rearranging the blankets left Genji with sweat pearling on his forehead and exhaustion overcoming his body.

A deep intake of breath results in a few horrible sounding coughs being ripped from his lungs and after they end, he buried himself deeper into the blankets, feeling as if the coldness was already creeping in on him. Shivering even though he was wrapped up in enough layers to keep the cold out, inside Genji’s mind was a coldness that could not be kept at bay by a few more layers of fabric.

Shuffling under the blankets he searched for the orb that had rolled around the cot, grasping it in his hands carefully, after his fingers brushed against its surface. He is surprised to find that even though it must be made from some kind of metal, the orb was warm to the touch.

Concentrating on the warmth in his hands, as the monk had instructed, Genji waited for anything to happen, some wondrous, magical glow to come from within the cocoon of blankets. And while he waited, he does not notice, that the effect of the orb was already working. His mind didn’t stumble towards the darkness lurking at the back of his mind, the evil waiting to attack when his barriers were low and his mind unprotected. He couldn’t say when his eyes had closed, still concentrating on the warmth in his hands that now spread along his arms and towards his chest, wrapping itself around Genji almost like a hug – carrying him off into sleep.

*****

Heavy panting filled the small room, the sound of fabric rustling whenever the body on the cot jerked and thrashed around. Sweat made the pale skin of the cyborg glister, his hair sticking to his damp skin. There was nothing of the calmness left that had carried the man into sleep mere hours ago. Instead, he was plagued by discord – pained, desperate whimpers coming from his lips whenever he moved in the tangled-up mess of the blankets.

Looking around inside his dream Genji realized that he was surrounded by a lake of blood. As far as he could see the wetness reflected the shine of the crimson glowing full moon hanging low in the sky. It was quiet at first, except for the sound of his heavy breathing. Then suddenly the silence was pierced by a roar and Genji spun around, facing the sound with wild panic filling his body.

Staring in shock at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes, his breath was stuck in his throat, no sound coming from his lips. The animal that had let out the pained roar was no one less than his own dragon, a part of his soul, the ‘curse’ of the Shimada family.

Black, shadowy and yet humanoid looking creatures had pinned the dragon to the ground, circling it with either a katana or a bow in their hands, ready to strike the beast. The moment Genji’s gaze moved towards the beast’s face it opened his eyes, locking their gazes together and Genji trembled, crashing down to his knees when all of a sudden the emotions this mighty beast currently experiences came rushing into his head.

A bone-rattling roar made Genji’s face snap back up towards the dragon and he could now see that the shadows had moved in to attack the defenceless and weakened beast.

**_“NOOOOOO!”_** , he screamed, as he tried to get back up from his position on the ground, desperate to get to his dragon, to save it, to help, to do _anything_! Pained yelps, roars and whimpers carried over to Genji and yet his legs wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t move to get him up and running towards it.

Looking down at himself Genji whimpered when he saw the bloody stumps of his legs instead of the cybernetics, he still had just moments ago. Staring back at his dragon, the scene seemed to be moving further and further away from him, slipping out of reach. He could see that the dragon’s legs were covered in deep cuts and arrows stuck from his bleeding flesh and muscle.

Panic rising inside of him, he pushed his body forward, falling into the wetness on the ground. His face hit the surface and as he craned his head to the side, he noticed his right arm lying next to him. A glance towards his shoulder made Genji retch, bones and torn flesh visible just as his dragon roared once again and Genji’s focus shifted towards it just as its front leg was being attacked once again.

Hot, desperate tears began falling from his eyes, his skin beginning to feel uncomfortably hot. Just after he blinked once, Genji could suddenly see flames surge all around him, panic rising inside of him, making his heart beat fast, the blood rushing through his head so he could hear a resonating buzz inside his ears, his breath coming in short gasps.   
He swung his left arm forwards, trying desperately to grab on to something on the floor, trying to pull himself along the ground – towards his dragon and away from the flames – but his hand kept slipping, his strength wavered and left his body as the blood steadily flowed from his torn limbs.

Staring ahead at his dragon they lock their gazes once again, a desperate sob slipped from Genji’s lips as he saw its suffering right before his eyes just like his dragon saw Genji’s.  
Crying out in pain as the flames began to lick at the skin of his lower body, his dragon jerked its head to the side where two of the shadow creatures raised their swords to attack its neck.

Just as their katanas moved downwards Genji is jolted awake, jerking from the bed and sitting upright in the barest of moments, tangled in blankets. Sweaty and breathing heavily, his scream still echoed along the stone walls of his room. His voice was underlined by something much more animalistic, the roar of a wounded, angry animal carrying a much deeper tone along the stones of the temple.

Sitting on the cot shaking, Genji wrapped his arms around his body, gripping his right, cybernetic arm tightly. The phantom feeling of the inked skin that had once connected him to his dragon spirit tingling even though it was only cybernetic now. Desperate sobs slipped from his body as Genji curled in on himself, softly rocking himself, feeling the emptiness inside of him, an emptiness that threatened to tear him apart.

He had been able to feel the spirit again just now, a glimpse of its existence inside his soul, flickering like the flame of a candle in the wind. But the storm had been stronger and the only thing that remained was the soft glow of a smouldering wick before even that died and nothing was there except grey smoke.

Desperation clawed inside of Genji, the pain of having lost the connection to his spirit once again made him crazy. A desperate cry was ripped from him as he let all the pain, the desperation, loneliness and fury out in the one sound that seemed to shake even the ancient stones surrounding him, disrupting the peace of the night.

* * *

**“A _dragon?”_**

Mondatta’s question was spoken in such a way, ripe, pregnant with disbelief, that Zenyatta found the heat rising to his face before he could so much as think another thought.   
Yes, it sounded ridiculous, it _was_ ridiculous, but to some, so was the idea that a deity, a consciousness formed from the minds of machines, could exist in the modern world today. Mondatta would never question the existence of the Iris, so was this such a stretch?

**“Yes”** , Zenyatta nodded, reaffirming.   
**“A dragon - just a glimpse. It was hurt, cold…afraid.”**

As his student’s voice tapered off, his gaze distancing itself from the present moment, he somehow drew the older monk in making him lean forth on his makeshift perch until he almost overbalanced. Zenyatta was serious, the Iris had shown this to him and no mistake about it, it would mean something, but what that something was, remained to be seen. His student should never have opened himself up like that, allowed the moment to take him and slip between the plains of existence. And Mondatta _should_ have stopped him.  
This was no more Zenyatta’s fault than it was his own. His student was keen-minded and even keener of spirit, it was his duty of care to see that he did not overstretch his means.

**“In all my days, the Iris has never shown me such things. A metaphor, perhaps?”** , he wondered, words barely a whisper on his lips.

Looking up from the middle distance, the older monk startled slightly - such was to the amusement of Zenyatta - his just revenge he supposed, for sitting here, waiting all this time. That wasn’t strictly true, he informed himself silently, he had tidied the place up a little in the occupant’s stead.  
 **“No library duty for me this time, then?”**

**“Ah”** \- Mondatta noted, astute as always, far too perceptive for his own good. He really had picked well.  
 **“I was thinking more of _rest_. You will need your energy for tomorrow, I have assigned your chores to another, you will be needed in the infirmary. Our guest was responding well to the orbs”**, he rose, gracefully, the ornate folds of his kasaya swirling around his ankles as he turned towards the door. **  
“A few more days and he will be well enough to move into the guest lodgings, should he decide to stay.”**

The Shambali leader was almost out the door by then.   
**“Śubha rātrī Zenyatta.”**

And by the time it was closed behind him, Zenyatta could only respond to the warm glow of the room’s solitary lamp, it’s flickering flame dancing in the cool night air.   
**“I hope so. Goodnight, master.”**

*****

Sleep claimed Zenyatta quickly, with barely five minutes passing between the time his head touched the pillow, his eyelids sliding closed, and the full embrace of the inky darkness taking him. Warm in his bed, he lost himself to it, never having realized quite how exhausted he had been.  
Flashes of the day’s events passed through his mind, each one more fleeting than the last, running merry rings around his subconscious. Yet every single time it all came back to one thing: What did the Iris want him to see, what had it tried to tell him. Maybe something, maybe nothing at all, little more than the mad rambling thoughts of a man who had been, up to that point, dying from the exposure to the forces of nature.

_No._ There was more to it than that.

Genji had all but pounced upon the words he had spoken when Zenyatta had uttered the fateful **_“I have seen it”_**. He had practically launched himself at the meaning behind them, desperately trying to seek what Zenyatta had uncovered. That was not the reaction of a rambling mad man, that was the response of a man who had something to hide, something he could not bring out into the open. At least not _yet_.

Through the haze of swirling, stifling darkness, peered a set of luminescent, shimmering eyes. So golden and bright were they, with patterns swirling within their irises, the young monk found them almost hypnotic. They watched him there, through the smoke, the weight of that gaze bearing down imposingly through the billowing clouds of ash and smoulder, rising from the floor with every impossibly heavy step he took.  
So Zenyatta peered closer, the air inhospitably hot when he moved, forgotten in the weight of the suggestion, the outline now slinking out of the dark.  
First came the muzzle, two grotesquely large nostrils inlay the impossibly large snout, which was easily twice the size of his own head alone, the creature, the _dragon_ , lumbered into view, cumbersome and heavy and not slowing its approach.

**“What do you _want?”_ **\- Zenyatta had not spoken the words aloud, but he knew they had been heard. The dragon halted, huge snout huffing out a snort that nearly blew the monk clean off his feet, the welcome breeze wafting over and around his steadfast form before the creature turned its head, massive body hauled around to coil in the opposite direction and then drag itself away in a flash of shimmering, shifting, green scales.   
**“Wait!”**

Zenyatta stumbled after it, forgetting himself, forgetting the sanctity of the light and plunging deep into the smokey surroundings, blindly hurrying forth until his foot caught and he tripped, colliding hard with the ground, the air leaving his lungs in a single, choking whoosh.  
A rumble somewhere off in the distance made him forget, calling to him to lend the creature his attention one last time, and this time, imbuing their tenuous connection with urgency, with anguish…he was hurt, he was in _so much pain_ , he needed to get out!

Opening his eyes, he searched for the scaly beast, finding instead a crimson lake, his own, confused, visage staring back up at him in reflection. Where had the dragon gone? The water - or was it blood? - stirred, rippling to distort his reflection, losing it momentarily in the rumbles that shook its surface. By the time that it calmed, clearing to that eerily still surface, Zenyatta could see a new face staring back up at him….one he had never seen before, yet he sensed should have been familiar to him. Bright eyes, a smooth complexion and what would have been a smile full of zest for life rested behind those oddly inert lips.  
The monk stared back at it for several, long moments, unsure, unmoving…  
 **“Who-?”**

Another rumble, this one shaking the ashen earth enough to cause debris and dust from above to rain down upon him, banners, their emblem of two dragons, falling into the crimson waters, marring the face of all features when the liquid began to surge. Something was coming towards him through the lake, fast, relentless, it would not stop…  
Scrabbling desperately to his feet, Zenyatta tried to backtrack, feeling the ground loose and unstable beneath him. Unable to gain traction, to flee, he was falling again, down, down into the darkness, the fear, the agony trying to consume him along with everything else surrounding him. And through the mélange of the terrible? A single, ear-splitting roar.

**_*****_ **

In his cell, in the dead of night, Mondatta heard it - a cry unlike any other he had heard from man nor beast. It tore through the foundations of the temple, reverberated through the halls like thunder, penetrating chambers and sacred spaces where no sound had touched since their construction.  
Bolt upright on his bed, heart hammering so loud he could hear the blood rushing through him in his ears, he reached for the waist wrap of his kasaya, pulling it around himself just as he pulled himself from his bed and the last vestiges of sleep.

That cry was not of this world, nor any plain of existence he had known, but he knew precisely where he was going, even before he knew what it was he must do.  
Down the halls, through winding passages and narrow staircases, he reached the infirmary, the door already hanging wide open, the light from within spilling out into the corridor beyond. And there, just inside its open maw, stood Zenyatta, breathing hard and self-dishevelled from the effort of having run here without a second’s hesitation. 

When he caught his student’s gaze, he need not have uttered the fateful, **“That was no metaphor.”**

Now it was all eyes on Genji.

* * *

Genji’s screams of agony soon turned into desperate whimpers as he slowly rocked himself back and forth, sitting on his cot, his arms wrapped around himself in a vain attempt to hold himself together. He felt like if he let go now, he would simply fall apart.

The only sounds in his room were the soft echoes of his sobs. His entire body and soul felt just like it had back when he had first lost the connection to his dragon. When his brother had struck him down and he had lost both his life and his body with which he had been connected to the spirit. Before, Genji had been able to channel his pain into mindless killing, slaughtering whatever enemy was in his way to make them pay for his suffering. Now he could do nothing and just the flicker of his dragon’s spirit had let hope bloom inside of him…the pain of losing this small flame again was more than he could take.

Genji’s head jerked upwards when he heard the door open, the wood bumping against the fabric that served as a stopper for exactly these moments, moments in which someone threw the door open with enough force it would otherwise have hit the wall. His gaze locked with the one of the younger monk, his state of undress and the heavy breathing indicating that he had run towards Genji immediately after being jolted from his sleep.

Panic filled the cyborg’s veins and he tensed on his cot, holding his breath. Had the monk been able to hear his dragons pained roar or were his human screams the reason he had woken him?

**“…”** , Genji wanted to speak but his throat was raw from crying out in pain both during his nightmare and after. The pain and ache were still running through his body, like the waves of the ocean, they kept crashing against him and he couldn’t control the tears that still flowed down his cheeks, desperate sobs spilling from his lips whenever another wave of loneliness and emptiness hit him, making him curl further into himself.  
Genji could see the uncertainty, the fear in Zenyatta’s eyes and yet the monk stepped slightly closer towards him…almost like he was drawn to him. His feet moving without him fully registering what it was that he is doing.

It seemed like only a few moments pass before Genji was able to hear footsteps in the hallway leading to his room and Mondatta appeared inside the door. He looked up towards the second monk, finally breaking his eye-contact with Zenyatta.

The cyborg wanted to run, to hide away until he was able to have his body and mind under control again, instead of showing the raw emotions his nightmare had caused him. He was surely looking like a mess by now, hair sweaty and sticking to his face, his legs tangled up in the two blankets he had pulled over himself, while the third, the one he had wrapped around himself, was clinging to his sweaty left arm.

How would he be able to explain this? Surely, they must already think him a mad man and telling them that his soul had once been bonded to that of a dragon spirit would not help his case. Or that his soul felt ripped apart and left in tatters all over again after his dream.  
Genji could feel the tension growing inside the small room, the monk’s eyes resting on him, expecting _something_ to happen.

**“I-…”** , his voice broke, hoarse and heavy with emotions. Turning his face away from the two pairs of staring eyes Genji slowly moved his arms so he could pull the blanket back around his shoulders. Just as Fon had told him the room temperature had dropped considerably and his heated body shivered, now that the adrenaline was slowly receding.

**“I did not…mean to wake…anyone”** , he pushed out, a small fit of coughs shaking him when his dry throat was being agitated. After he got himself back under control, he looked back up towards the two monks, both in a considerate state of undress, their upper bodies exposed.  
And were Genji in a different state of mind and even a different man, then he would have taken the time to appreciate their fine physic and the beautiful skin tone, that almost seemed to glow golden in the light of his room.

* * *

When Zenyatta had entered the infirmary, he had not known what he would find. Would it be the man, would he still be there, or would he have found -

What…A _dragon?_

Mondatta’s earlier scepticism returned to haunt him now, mainly because of how ridiculous that statement had sounded. Yet Zenyatta knew what he had seen. It had been so real, real enough he could have reached out and touched it, believable enough because his skin still prickled from the close proximity to the surrounding heat of his dream. Did the Iris always grant such vivid visions, or was it something more, had he been asleep at all?

Hands closed around the bulk of his upper arms; a soft, comforting pressure exerted by each finger pad. He knew, without looking that Mondatta had joined him, the familiarity of the older man’s presence calming him only slightly.

In the far corner, Genji sat, weeping, curled up in a mess of strewn blankets and his quaking limbs. Zenyatta dared not offer him the comfort of touch, not after he had witnessed the man’s reaction to it earlier that night. Fon had only meant to help, and yet Genji had reacted so violently to the suggestion, he had even refused Zenyatta’s hand to help him from the floor. Neither monk approached, wisely so, but they could hardly leave Genji here to suffer. It was the softly, slow, approach then.

It was to the great relief of them all when Genji did choose to speak.

**“You didn’t…”** Zenyatta, spoke up, the frown he wore indicating that he didn’t quite mean that. **“…Well, I mean you did, but I don’t think it was _you_ who woke me.”**

Behind him, Zenyatta felt the telltale signs of Mondatta’s unease, a sudden tense stiffness in that grip that infused the pressure points of flesh on flesh. Now that Zenyatta considered it, how had Mondatta known where to find him, that he would be here, precisely now at this unruly hour?

**“You heard it too…”** , the younger monk breathed, his chest suddenly feeling all too tight, the weight of the truth dawning a little more than he could bear.

**“I heard something”** , Mondatta murmured back, eyes still carefully observing Genji where he sat, gently rocking to comfort himself. **“But I am more interested in _how_ it was I heard it.”**

The younger monk’s head inclined once or twice, nodding slowly. He wanted confirmation, but Mondatta could not give it to him. He knew what he had heard, what he had seen, but had it been real, had it been identical. Talking about it when there was a person in need, right in front of them, was hardly appropriate. But with Genji’s deteriorating state, the chance for an in-depth discussion was out of the question.

**“Genji?”** , he had to try, it didn’t feel right simply leaving him to settle of his own accord, no matter how much he appeared to be blowing this off as little more than a minor sleep disturbance.   
**“I do not know what happened to you and I would not ask you to recount it now, nor before you are ready, but you are safe here.”**  
Was that reassurance enough? Had he even hit the mark…Zenyatta was striking out blindly in the dark, thoughts whirling while his eyes tried to look anywhere in the room but directly at the red-eyed, wet-cheeked, man sat on the edge of the cot.  
Genji looked so small like that, yet when he stood, when he moved, unsteady or not, he was imposing. Definitely not the kind Zenyatta would have considered negotiating lightly.

Eventually, his gaze found the discarded, now depleted, orb. It lay there, inert and no longer singing its chime, the golden glow long since quiescent within its many compartments. Ah- so he had used it then.  
Palming the sphere, he waggled it a little to draw attention to what he was holding.

**“I am sorry, I thought I had left enough energy to get you through the night. That was my mistake. If you wish, I can recharge it fully while you settle?”** , it was the least he could do, perhaps the only thing he could do. That, and while he did, it gave the other an opportunity to open up to him. He had many questions of his own, but Mondatta didn’t need to know about those yet, maybe not ever.

* * *

Genji listened closely to the short conversation between the two monks, his body tensing with the pressure of knowing that both of them had heard not only his shout but the roar of his dragon as well. It was more than understandable that they had questions and yet how would he be able to answer these? What did the men think of him now that they heard an animal cry out from the same room in which a single man was resting? Or that it had indeed still been him that had woken them, if not his own voice but still a part of himself, nonetheless.

When Zenyatta called his name, Genji slowly lifted his tired head up, looking at the man in front of him with wary eyes. The reassurance of safety did little to calm the cyborg down. He knew that there was no danger here, no threat coming from the monks nor the people in the village. But that did not mean that he was safe from his own demons and the pain that his connection to the spirit, or the lack of it, caused.

He watched Zenyatta move to retrieve the golden orb that had found its way to the ground, most likely due to his violent thrashing on his cot. The orb had allowed him to calm enough to fall asleep but Genji had not believed the monk’s words about getting him through the night. When his nightmares came there was nothing that could hold them at bay.

**“It is myself that I am not safe from”** , the cyborg replied in a weak murmur, his voice shaking both from exhaustion and fear. Not even in his sleep was he safe from the memories and thoughts of what had happened to him, not even then was he able to get the rest both his body and mind desperately needed.

A new wave of cold emptiness crashed over Genji and with a whimper he tried to pull the blanket tighter around himself, knowing full well that it would do nothing against the cold. The warmth he was craving so desperately was not the one from an outside source but the fierce flame of his dragon that used to provide his body and soul with warmth and compassion.  
 **“A part of myself that has been ripped from me many years ago…along with my body”** , he continued almost more to himself than to the two men in the room with him. It felt unfair to Genji to riddle them with even more mysteries about his person and yet there was so much to him that he simply could not share. There was too much pain, too much suffering and too many memories that have made Genji harden up and retreat into a shell, a castle made of the strongest material, in an attempt to keep the raw core of himself safe.

He could not burden the monks with his fate when they did not even know what they had gotten themselves involved with. What monster they had allowed into their midst. Once again Genji feared for the safety of the people living in the temple instead of his own – what if he lost control? What if he would hurt them?

Trying to curl even further into himself he squeezed his human arm with his cybernetic, the almost painful pressure grounding him to the current moment instead of his mind going back to the dream – the feeling of fire licking at his skin and pain crushing his body – and his dragon.

How he managed to get himself into more and more complicated situations with these monks was beyond him. The last 24 hours had been filled with many different occasions in which he must have painted a good picture of him being a complete mad man. Too many instances in which questions rose up to which he could and would not be able to form a proper answer.

* * *

Mondatta watched his student dutifully, silently appraising the ways in which Zenyatta approached the situation. The younger monk would have many doubts, it went without saying, having been woken, just as he had, from his slumber to the sounds of that roaring cry was jarring at the least. To have come here, come this far and not demanded answers from the one person who seemed to know exactly what was going on, showed just how far Zenyatta had come in the grander scheme of things. His patience still lacked in places, but every single day Mondatta saw a change in him, the way these practical lessons had begun to shape him. Zenyatta may never know how proud he really was, and he would not tell him, it would spoil him to do so and they could not have that. Who would take his place when he was gone, after all?

**“I will leave you to it.”** He murmured, softly, to his student, nodding his farewell to Genji. The words were not for him. **“Call me if you need anything at all.”**

Zenyatta nodded once in silent reply, curt and reassuring. He was still turning the orb over and over in his hands while Genji spoke - little and scant as ever - leaving him with just enough information to chew over for the next hour or so. It would be an hour in which he would decide what best to ask, because leaving such things to impulse often meant making a much bigger mess of things.

**“I am sorry for your loss, Genji. Truly, I am.”**   
Clutching at the orb, he concentrated, yet part of his mind remained very alert, very present in the foreground of things. **“I know how difficult that must have been.”** The orb began to chime softly, the sound low and sluggish at first, gently rising into that familiar clear ring that resonated within the mind, igniting synapses in a warmly comforting way. And the truth of it was that he did know what it was like to lose a part of yourself. To lose more than one could have possibly imagined…But this was not about him.

**“I will leave you with more than enough this time.”**   
Zenyatta’s head dipped down, motioning towards the softly glowing orb between his hands. **“Apologies for before, I…am still learning.”**   
Perhaps not the most comforting thing he could have said, given their current situation, feeling it necessary to fill the silent void between them with idle conversation. It never occurred to him that it would annoy the other, merely that he wished to coax the man out of his brooding angst.  
The ringing reached fever pitch, orb jostling about between his hands as if it had merely drunk its fill and was now ready to go yet again.

**“All done”** , he said, a triumphant flick of one index finger sending the orb gliding through the air to land in the cyborg’s blanketed lap. **“And think nothing of the disturbance, it is no worse than the sound of Fon recharging.”** A small chuckle, meant to lighten the mood, fell as flatly as wet leaves. Zenyatta supposed he should have expected it, but somehow it made the atmosphere just that little bit more inhospitable. Mondatta had had the right idea, he should be leaving, even if it was to his own chamber where he would lay awake for hours, contemplating what it was he had seen and felt until the sun rose over the mountains and the call to meditation was sounded.

**“Meditation is at sunrise, Fon will probably find you before I do. He fusses, I know, but he means well.”** And with that, he bid the exhausted man a brief, and quiet farewell, padding back to his cell, sleep-deprived and questioning. It would be a long night.

*****

Come morning, Fon did indeed find Genji long before Zenyatta had so much as dragged himself from his bed. The unnaturally cheerful omnic rapped his knuckles against the ageing wood door, entering when he heard movement inside. Nestled in the crook of one, sturdy, arm, was a tray with yet another bowl of food, some grains and dried fruit he had procured from the stores, recalling how humans preferred to add a little flavour to their sustenance to make it more palatable.

**“Good morning, my friend.”** , Fon greeted, placing the bowl upon the little bedside table, already reaching for the jug of water to pour his charge a glass. **  
“I do hope you are hungry, I had to go to the furthest of our food storage buildings to find these fruits. Tell no one I gave them to you, the outrage would be legendary, I fear.”** A titter of amusement rattled through that old synthesizer, his optics plinking in a merry display.

Appearing to freeze, the whirring of his processors increased somewhat until he turned around to place the water jug down again.  
 **“Has Zenyatta been by, by any chance?”**

* * *

Genji watched Mondatta leave the two of them, the man clearly confident in his student’s skill to handle the situation. And Genji had to agree that he felt more at ease with only one of them in the room, it felt less like he was under the scrutiny of the monks like this.

Once the older monk was out the door Genji shifted his attention back to Zenyatta and the orb in his hands. Once again, the cyborg found himself fascinated by the soft chime coming from seemingly deep within the metal sphere. Simply watching the process of the sound becoming more and more vibrant and the orb coming alive in Zenyatta’s hands seemed to calm Genji’s wild thoughts, his gaze fixed on the small object.

He almost didn’t register the monk’s apology, but he managed to pull himself away from the harmonic sound and the warmth that already began to blossom inside of him, creeping into even the coldest of places inside his mind and soul. Looking up into Zenyatta’s face, watching it as the younger man chuckled to himself – the joke lost to Genji’s mood but the smile nevertheless welcome. It had been a long time since he had last seen a friendly and open expression directed at him. And the monk seemed to be less reserved around him than Mondatta, less likely to treat him like a fragile piece of porcelain that one only brought out of its careful wrapping for special occasions. But his mind might be playing tricks on him – it would be something Genji needed to think about in the coming hours,…days maybe.

As soon as the orb hit Genji’s lap he eagerly reached for it with his human hand, scooping it into his palm and pressing it against his chest. Feeling the warmth resonate with his skin made him sigh and the calmness he had felt before slowly spread through him. He nodded shortly when the monk bid him farewell, happy that no further questions would be asked about his fit and the cry of his spirit dragon.

Exhausted Genji laid back down on his cot, trying and failing a few times to untangle his blankets and getting them wrapped around him once more, the orb constantly pressed against his chest. Sleep found the man quicker than before and this time it was a dreamless one.

*****

Genji woke early, judging by the light outside the windows of his room, yet he woke peacefully and by himself. Sitting up on his cot the cyborg concentrated on the temple around him, there were no sounds coming from the hallways yet and only the soft chimes from outside were ringing in the air.

Pushing the blankets away from his body he slowly moved towards the edge of the cot, setting his feet on the cold floor. After the disaster of the last few times that he had attempted to stand and walk, this time he waited for his body to prepare and collect the strength needed.  
Looking around the room he noticed it for the first time since he had been brought here. He spotted a smaller door on the side of it, hoping it would lead to a form of a bathroom.

Slowly pushing himself up to stand he staggered forwards a few steps, getting his balance. His body didn’t hurt as badly anymore, the pain having dulled to an ache settled deep within his muscles and joints. Once again Genji looked at the orb, now lying in the middle of his cot, wondering how exactly it worked to both calm his mind and heal his body.

Moving to the side of the room to be able to lean against the wall he slowly moved his way towards the door across from him, opening it to indeed find a small bathroom. Quickly relieving himself and putting his modesty panel back into place he stood in front of the small sink, leaning heavily on it. Just the small amount of walking had left him exhausted once again, sweat beginning to collect at his temple. It seemed as much as the orb could heal physical wounds but an infection was something it could not heal through the course of a single night.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, collecting his strength once more Genji turned and made his way slowly back into the main room. The air was heavy with the smell of stale air, sickness and sweat as he entered it again. He looked from his cot towards the window with yearning before he decided to walk towards the latter slowly.

Reaching it he pulled it open slowly, breathing in the crisp, cold air that immediately assaulted his senses. Gazing into what seemed to be a small courtyard outside he watched the rays of the early sun get caught in the fresh snow covering the stones outside making the world glister. Shivering when the sweat on his skin got cold, Genji turned away from the window to finally walk back to his cot.

He was confused about the amount of calmness that still resided deep within himself and at the same time he didn’t dare to question it. It felt like a mixture between complete numbness and the simple fact that he did not allow himself to think about all the things that had happened since he arrived here. Ignorance was indeed bliss at times like this.

Just as he sat down on the cot heavily and with an exhausted groan, he heard the knock on his door. Hoping that whoever wanted entry would not wait for him to open the door. He was more than happy to see that the omnic did let himself in.

Genji stared at the loaded tray Fon was carrying and setting down next to his cot. Had the omnic forgotten that he could not taste and would not even be able to appreciate the trouble he had gone through to acquire the fruit? The omnic seemed so happy though about fussing over Genji so he bit his tongue to stop himself from reminding the omnic. He would rather have the monks enjoy them if they were such a rarity.

Reaching for the bowl of food he pulled it into his lap, slowly grasping the spoon and eating slowly. It would have been more than rude to refuse the food, knowing the amount of trouble the omnic had gone through to get it for him. The food didn’t have any smell so he had no idea what it must taste like, making it easier to simply swallow after he was done chewing it.

**“Not since tonight, no”** , he replied after swallowing a piece of fruit and looking up at Fon. Had the omnic been woken by his screams earlier as well or had he been shut down for recharging, Genji wondered before taking another spoonful of the food.

* * *

**“Hmm.”** , Fon hummed, pleasantly whirring and chattering to himself, a little something akin to binary in audio, little more than comfort for him, something he did when he mulled over the possibilities. Zenyatta could have slept in again, but he highly doubted Mondatta would allow that, even given that he had something of an interrupted night.   
**“I am sure he will turn up somewhere. Once he gives you the all-clear you might like to begin to consider your place in things here.”**

And if that surprised the cyborg, Fon wouldn’t have been too shocked himself. All newcomers were given their own set of tasks, many saw them as pointless at first, others, a debt to be paid. What was important was not the tasks themselves, but the time it gave the person doing them to consider things in a new light.

**“Oh yes, did you believe we would let you sit idle, my friend?”**   
The omnic vented a basso chuckle, shoulders and pistons jiggling a smidge.   
**“No, no, no. We have a monastery to tend to and you are now a part of this place.”** Would he react with vitriol, repulsion? It remained to be seen.   
**“What you do, however? That is for Master Mondatta to decide, of course, but food for thought nevertheless.”**

Picking up the nearby broom, he began to sweep the pristine floor, a seemingly pointless task, yet Fon went about it anyway, not leaving any corner untouched. He seemed entirely focused on his activity, without sparing Genji a single glance, but to ask him if he wouldn’t mind temporarily moving to the cot next to his own so that he might sweep under the first.  
When at last he was done, he placed the broom back against the wall where he had found it and surveyed the room. Still no Zenyatta. Meditation would be over soon, and without the younger monk here, he could not get on with his daily chores.

So where was the sneaky little wretch? If he had absconded to the village again…

A soft knock at the door brought the light back to his optics.   
_Oh, thank the iris for that!_   
But as the door slowly opened, its old creaky hinges eliciting a high-pitched whine as they slid against one another, the omnic’s servos matched the sound of the door - a sign of his confusion.  
In the doorway stood Mondatta, his usual white kasaya freshly donned that morning, the circles under his eyes just a little more sallow than usual. Inwardly, Fon cringed, had it been one of those nights? He had been sound asleep in recharge mode, dead to the world for all counts.  
 **“Good morning Mondatta.”,** Fon chirruped, bowing reverently, tweeting as the other monk did likewise.   
**“I don’t suppose Zenyatta is with you?”**   
If he was at the village, if he was anywhere but within the monastery grounds, Fon was going to have _such_ a word with him. There was stubbornness and there was being a complete fool, and the ageing bot believed he had had Zenyatta’s measure there, but his assumption -

**“I asked him to tend to the winter stores.”**

-was _completely_ wrong.  
Fon visibly sagged in midair, head lolling forth as his hand touched gently to the centre, hexagonal core, of his chest plate. Well, that was a relief.

**“Ah, I see…well, if you have no need for me, I shall be tending to the rest of my duties.”** , he stated, Mondatta giving Fon no indicator that he wished him to remain, so executing another bow, off he plodded.

When Fon’s footsteps were some distance away, Mondatta closed the door behind him, pulling up a seat on the cot Zenyatta had used a day earlier. For an uncomfortable moment he said nothing to Genji, watching the little life-lights on the cyborg’s mechanical parts plip on and off accordingly. Curious, as sights went, but he had not come here to state.

**“You are concerned, you need not be.”** , the monk spoke up, not truly knowing that to be the case, but the hunch was what drove him to say it anyway.  
 **“I merely wish to know if you are feeling strong enough to perhaps go for a walk?”**

A brief pause and the monk quirked an eyebrow, curious, expectant. Was this quietness their true nature or was it because he felt guilty. Mondatta hoped it was not the latter.   
**“The air would do your lungs some good. It is not so frigid inside the winter storage building.”** \- The same building Zenyatta was in. His student might not appreciate the deliberate set up any more than Genji would, but it remained to be said that out of all of them, Zenyatta had been able to pry a little more information from Genji than either he or Fon put together.  
Handing it to Zenyatta was the natural choice, he was unassuming, thoughtful to the point he considered his choice of words very carefully, and unthreatening.

* * *

His place…? How would Genji be able to find his place here in this monastery if he did not even know what his place, his reason for being, was on this earth? Genji mulled over this question as he slowly continued eating breakfast. The omnics next words and his easy-going attitude made the cyborg grimace over his bowl. He did not like being made fun off and he did not like that the omnic apparently thought he would be sitting idle here in the monastery if he decided to stay.

He was not some pampered boy that would go about demanding things to be his way. He might have been like that some time ago and when he had still been a different man but now Genji had realized that his behaviour had been anything but right…and that it had always been an act, a mask he had worn – something to hide his true self behind.

Nevertheless, the thought bugged him and his hand stopped midair, the spoon loaded with food but forgotten. What would he be able to do here? All he knew was killing. His body was not used to anything else since he had been rebuilt from scratch…and his mind? That knew little more than violence, pain and desperation.

Genji looked up at Fon with a frown on his face, finally eating the portion of food on his spoon. But his appetite had completely disappeared now and he carefully placed the spoon down into the half-full bowl. Suddenly the thoughts swirling inside his mind made him feel sick, his stomach began to feel tight and an uneasy feeling spread through his entire body.

Staring into the bowl of food Genji didn’t notice at first that the omnic had begun busying himself with…sweeping the spotless floor. Raising an eyebrow when he finally did look up to watch Fon. His irritation rose further and reached its peak when the omnic asked him to change cots.  
Not wanting to argue with him, after all, he was a guest here and the omnic had done nothing wrong. This was all Genji and his own mind.

Slowly getting up from the cot, grabbing the bowl of food and setting it down on the tray on the way, he walked slowly, carefully over to the second cot so the omnic might sweep under his.

After Fon was finally done, Genji got up and walked over to his cot again on shaking legs. Just then he heard the knock on the door, hoping for it to be Zenyatta so the uncomfortable silence between the two of them might finally end. Sitting down slowly and with an exhausted groan, Genji froze when he realized what he had just thought. Did he already wish for the presence of that persistent monk? That was ridiculous…and yet Genji could not deny that Zenyatta intrigued him. The younger man pulsing with such a different kind of energy than the older monk, less calm and more adventurous.

When Genji opened his eyes again, after having closed them due to a wave of unease and aching pain that had rushed over him, he saw Mondatta stand in the door and immediately Genji’s mind went to high alert. The man looked tired and the cyborg felt guilt rise inside of him. He was the cause for the man’s tiredness, and he had yet to ask him any questions about last night. Some of the conversations that had happened came back to him and Genji tensed further when he realized that the monks were clearly suspicious of him. They had talked about something not being a metaphor…could they possibly know about his dragon spirit. But how?

Following the brief exchange between Fon and the monk, Genji watched Fon leave before he shifted his attention fully to Mondatta, watching him closely as he sat down across from him.  
Considering the exhaustion, he had felt from the simple walk to the bathroom Genji is inclined to tell the man exactly that but he stopped himself in his own tracks. Reaching for the glass of water Fon had placed on the tray he moved it to his lips, eagerly drinking the cold, fresh water before setting it back down.

What would he do all day if he did not go with Mondatta? He would more than likely go even crazier if he were to stay in this room all day, left alone with nothing but his own thoughts. They were already enough to handle when he had something to focus on. And fresh air sounded nice, just the slight breeze that came in from the window he had opened felt nice inside his infected lungs, even if the coldness clung to his skin and cybernetics.

**“If I stay close to a wall so I can take breaks I think I should be able to accompany you, yes”** , Genji replied with honesty, though not mentioning the amount of strength it had taken out of him when he had walked along the wall. His body felt more tired than ever before and his legs more like jelly than the actual refined metals and strong cybernetics he now called his.

His reply seemed to be enough for the monk, because he rose from his spot on the second cot and walked over to the door, asking Genji to follow him.  
Getting up from the bed slowly, Genji dragged one of the blankets up with him and wrapped it carefully around himself, trying not to lose his balance. Then he staggered towards the door, grabbing the wall beside it and looking at Mondatta expectantly.

**“Where are we going?”** , Genji asked knowing full well that even if Mondatta did give him a reply he would still not be any wiser since he did not actually know anything about this place.

* * *

The monk looked Genji up and down, appraising him for a couple of minutes, unaware that it could have made the man in front of him uncomfortable. His assessment corroborated what the cyborg was saying. No tricks then, no immediate threat if he truly was as unwell as he claimed. Good, this would make things expediently easier and it gave way to a tendril of guilt at having suspected otherwise.

**“Of course”** , he said, tone warm and inviting, they were all friends here, should he choose. **“And by all means, if it helps, I can support you. The walk is not far, but we shall take it slow.”**

A short while later they were walking along the perimeter of the monastery’s outer wall, the sunlight catching the tall spires with their flags whipping about in the bracing morning breeze with little to break the path of its flow. The monk measured his pace, taking it all in as one would a stroll, pausing every so often when the cyborg’s breathing became laboured or when he required rest. How much of his body was still organic, Mondatta couldn’t say for certain, but it was enough that he required rest, and that was enough of a reason. Omnic, human, cyborg, they were all welcome here.  
Naturally, Genji was curious. That it had taken him this long to ask the inevitable ‘where are we going’ question, amused Mondatta to no end. He had some patience then? Then he would not go hard on the poor man. A broken soul required more than just stitches to mend its shattered pieces. If he had ever been broken, then Genji was positively torn asunder, and that required due care and attention.

**“To the winter storage building. We will need to allocate a portion of our supplies to guests. You are, at present, our only guest and I for one would be happier knowing what supplies you will require to get you through those months.”** , he told Genji, nodding to the innocuous-looking outbuilding some fifty meters away.   
**“Almost there, do you need another break?”**

There was no wall with which to support the cyborg for those last few steps. Instead, Mondatta extended the crook of one, bare, arm for Genji to link with his own or grasp hold of, should he need to.

**“A room has been appropriated for you in the village, close to the shrine - I believe you passed it?”** There was no way Genji could have missed it, the path led directly up the mountainside. **“Once you are well enough, you may use it as you see fit.”** The monk then paused in his tracks, a flash of a frown wrinkling his brow for such short a time, Genji might have wondered if he’d seen it at all. **“Within reason, you understand.”**

The door to the store was pushed open, allowing the bright light from outside to spill in through the open space. Entering the room, it took Mondatta a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the only light emanating from one or two lamps that had been ensconced within little irregular alcoves around the walls. Piled ceiling-high, were crates of varying sizes, blankets and other warm previsions, along with a sizable collection of consumables for the lamps themselves, some dried food previsions and a pile of clean, unworn robes.  
At the back of the room movement could be heard, the shifting of boxes and even a quiet curse when something clattered to the ground, spilling its contents onto the floor - someone wasn’t expecting visitors.

**“Zenyatta?”** Mondatta called, pleasantly, as he closed the door. **“I brought someone to help you.”**


	5. Chapter Five

A peach-fuzzed head appeared from atop one of the lower standing crates, the familiar golden-eyed face of the younger monk emerging from the dimness.

 **“Good morning, Master.”  
** The greeting almost died on his lips when his gaze slid sidelong to the ailing figure beside him. What was he doing here, and more to the point, what was Mondatta bringing him here _for?  
_ **“He is too sick to be of any help moving these crates. He should be in the infirmary.”**

Mondatta merely chuckled, releasing Genji’s arm to allow him to sit if he wished.  
 **“I concur wholeheartedly, my light. But you are not in the infirmary, you are here.”**

 **“You asked me to tend to this task, Master.”** Zenyatta retorted, confusion lacing his tones broadly.

A single chop of the head and Mondatta acknowledged. **“Indeed, I did, and he will not lift a finger to help you move these crates, that is my mandate. There are more ways than one to aid you in this chore. You do need help with the inventory, it will make light work of the job.”**

Zenyatta was wise enough to know when to argue with the older monk. He was, first and foremost, more knowledgeable than himself, but that didn’t always mean Mondatta was right. Genji, not some twenty-four hours ago, was ailing in agony on the infirmary floor, and judging by the pallid complexion he sported now, he was only about seventy per cent capable of functioning as they spoke.

He did not offer a response, glancing back at Mondatta before he began to clamber, awkwardly, over the pile of crates, something held in the crook of his arm - a datapad - which he extended towards Genji the moment his feet were back on solid ground.

 **“Well, no time to waste then.”** , he smiled thinly, waiting for Genji to take the device. This wasn’t a good idea, what about the dragon he had seen? His unease would have to take a back seat, it seemed. **“I’ll call them out, you mark them off the list.”**

* * *

Genji was content to be following the monk’s path and pace, making sure to keep close to the walls by letting his left hand stroke along the old stones. From time to time he had to lean heavily against them with his upper body, trying to take deep breaths when his lungs and throat felt like he was being choked. His legs were moving better and better the longer he walked but the aching pain in his joints stayed a constant reminder in the back of Genji’s mind.

Arriving at a corner Genji looked ahead to the building Mondatta pointed out to him, assessing the distance between where they were standing and the entrance across the small courtyard. Leaning heavily against the stones, he nodded towards Mondatta with a heavy groan. It felt embarrassing to be needing this many breaks whenever some part of his body acted up.

Looking ahead towards the building once more, Genji frowned and pushed himself from the wall, pulling the thin blanket he brought with him tighter around himself with his right hand. The distance was more than he would be able to walk without support, so he silently focused on the extended arm, still frowning. The bare skin of Mondatta had the same seemingly golden shine than Zenyatta’s skin had had – it made the monks seem like they were indeed blessed by the gods. Who was Genji to dare touch them? To taint them with his bloodied hands.  
Taking in deep, slow breaths the cyborg collected his strength before pushing himself from the wall and taking small, slow steps towards the building – ignoring the offered arm.

 **“I-…I did not see a village. Only at the foot of the mountain from where I started”** , Genji explained slowly as he concentrated on taking one step at a time. His legs were beginning to shake, not at all liking the fact that they needed to support his entire weight and keep his balance at the same time.

One step Genji was still doing fine, but with the next one, he could feel himself tipping forwards after his feet had stumbled over a slightly raised stone in the floor. Before he could fall any further though, he felt a strong grasp around his right arm and shoulder. Glancing to the side he looked into the calm face of Mondatta and a hot flush began to spread over Genji’s face in embarrassment. He was stronger than this, he did not need help walking a few steps.

Letting Mondatta escort him the last few steps Genji was happy to be able to grasp the wall beside the doors to support him once again as they stepped inside. Mondatta had called out to…Zenyatta. Looking at the older monk Genji’s frown deepened, Mondatta had planned this to happen, bringing Genji here knowing – sending Zenyatta here – full well that the two of them would meet.

Finally, Genji felt the man’s arms fall away from him. He was only too happy about bringing the blanket now so at least the man had not touched him directly. Genji couldn’t stop the fleeting thought of how nice the slight warmth had felt. It was slowly seeping through the blanket. Leaning against the wall shortly Genji spotted a big wooden crate next to Mondatta, walking towards it he settled down upon it.

For once Genji agreed wholeheartedly with the younger monk, he was feeling too sick to be here and do what? Help? His face felt flushed from both the fever and the exhaustion, his hair stuck to his forehead and his breath coming slow and laboured.

Looking up at Mondatta when he heard about him not being allowed to do any of the lifting. Why had he brought him here then? He would only be in the way and surely, he would do better in his bed in the infirmary? Feeling a similar confusion come from Zenyatta soothed some of Genji’s irritation but it did not make it disappear entirely.

Watching Zenyatta advance towards him he felt a different kind of unease flow from the man, he was…reserved? Something was clearly on the man’s mind as he approached the cyborg. All Genji could think of was the night before…the feeling of his dragon, his shout…the pain and fear of losing him once again and waking up to the feeling of him being ripped from him again. How much did the monk know exactly?

Grabbing the datapad from the man he rearranged the blanket around his shoulders, pulling it tighter around him while simultaneously trying to hold the pad. He ended up putting it down on his lap to be able to keep the blanket around his shoulders. Quickly scanning over the list in front of him to get a feeling of how it was sorted he looked back up at Zenyatta, nodding before glancing towards Mondatta who was just standing there, on his spot, watching their interaction with an unreadable expression.

When Genji turned his head back towards the room, Zenyatta had already gone back towards the back of the room and had begun working on what they had just interrupted him in. The silence in the room, apart from the sound of shuffling, the occasional curse when something didn’t want to budge and the sound of Genji’s heavy breathing and occasional coughs, was heavy in the air making the entire situation uncomfortable and awkward. The first item Zenyatta suddenly called out made Genji jerk in surprise because he could not see the man anymore and he had begun zoning out from the silence surrounding them. It had not even been a long time and yet for Genji it already felt like hours.

Searching for the item on the list, swiping up with his hand he checked it and grunted softly but he soon realized that Zenyatta would most likely not be able to hear that.  
 **“Got it”** , he called out a little louder. Suddenly realizing that there would be long hours ahead of them, inside this room. He shifted on the crate and shivered slightly once again.

* * *

**“Wonderful, then I shall leave you to it”** , Mondatta enthused, hands clasped together as he retreated from the room. This would either work or it would be a catastrophic failure, and he for one hoped it would not be the latter. Zenyatta’s accord with the man had been duly noted, but he was troubled by his vision. This would be good for both of them, he told himself, everything would be fine with his guidance.

Zenyatta sighed as he heard the door to the storage building close, then turned his head Genji’s way, shoulders slumping dramatically. **  
“I had hoped he was going to say we didn’t have to do this. Looks like we are stuck here.”**

He climbed back over the pile of crates, dropping down to the ground on the opposite side, rummaging around again. The awkward silence stretched on, infecting the space around them. Zenyatta’s mind remained focused on the task at hand, so long as his mind was not quiet, the presence in the room that reminded him of his vivid dream could not get to him.

Picking up another bag of tea leaves, he read out the number listed on the sack, waiting to hear the familiar tap tapping that would signify Genji having typed the number in, nice and accounted for. This was the way they went on for some time, with Zenyatta climbing around, sometimes stumbling over the tails of his own kasaya, calling out each number for the inventory. Building up a conversational rhythm seemed to come naturally and was something of a comfort after a while.

The young monk forgot his hesitation, although he would stop from the to time to offer Genji samples of the foods he would find that aided healing and water from the canteen he had brought with him. When he was done, he dropped down from a large stack of crates beside Genji, dusting himself off and tutting, self-chiding, when he saw how dusty his robes had become.

 **“I’ll need to launder these”** , he commented, tiredly, yet another chore for the day and he without any spares.   
**“I can’t attend master Mondatta’s lessons looking like this.”  
** Nor could he do it in nothing but a towel.

Genji didn’t seem too affected by small talk, but that was just fine with Zenyatta. He was confident he could squeeze a little out of the silent stranger.

 **“I am sorry I did not come to see you this morning, Master Mondatta woke me early and assigned me this task”** , he smiled a little sheepishly, feeling somewhat bad…and relieved, for not having done so.   
**“I hope you took good care of my orb. I will need it back before tonight to recharge it. How are you feeling?”**   
He was so tired, so painfully, aching tired, but he could not afford to show it.

 **“And, uhh, thank you for your help. I can’t imagine this is what you envisioned when you came seeking our help.”**   
Zenyatta’s laugh was merry enough, yet missing some key part of the sound, voiding it of the correct emotions and sending it down the path of discomfort. What was he supposed to do? Clearly, Mondatta had a plan but he was not privy to it.   
**“Do I take it you have decided to stay, or should I be looking for your sword?”**

Wherever Mondatta had hidden it, he could not be certain, but he definitely hoped Genji did not find it before due time. Zenyatta’s hope was that Genji took his comments in good humour. But still at the back of his mind was the roar of the dragon he had heard the night before. Its pain, its anguish…it couldn’t stand the separation. Through all of it, Zenyatta had discerned one thing, one word: Severance.

The monk shuddered noticeably, waving the reaction off when he believed Genji had noticed it. **  
“I’m just remembering what it was like when I first arrived here. Fon put it off for as long as possible, I was so behind on my studies…but it gets easier, I promise.”  
**A genuine smile this time, he had fond memories.   
**“You’ll wonder why you were ever deterred.”**

* * *

Genji made sure to tap in the numbers quickly once Zenyatta called them out, the monk’s voice the only thing that filled the silence between them. Though it soon turned into a calm routine between them and Genji awaited each new calling, beginning to even enjoy himself. His mind entirely focused on the task and concentrated on picking up each noise and watching Zenyatta rummage through the crates and climb all over the place.

Their silent routine was only interrupted whenever Zenyatta came over to him to offer him some of the things they just catalouged. He denied whatever exotic thing it might have been that he was being offered, politely yet firm, telling the monk the taste would be lost to him anyway and they should instead save even the smallest amount for themselves. He only agreed to try the things that Zenyatta insisted on would help him with his ailment, the monk being persistent enough with those that Genji gave in.

The cyborg didn’t know how much time had passed since they had begun their work and he was surprised when Zenyatta moved towards him, sitting down on a crate next to him. Putting the datapad down beside him he turned slightly to be able to look at the monk.

When the man commented about his robes Genji let his gaze wander over the form in front of him, taking the sight in properly. Before he had thought the man was slim and simply smaller than Mondatta but now that he took the time to actually look at him, he saw that he was well built, softly defined muscles and a healthy glow coming off from his skin. All this most likely coming from the constant work in the temple. And his robes had indeed become quite dusty, Genji noticed at the end of his observation.

Genji was surprised when Zenyatta apologized for not being with him this morning, not having expected such a comment after the way the man had acted around him, unsure of his intentions and seeing him more like a threat. Something inside of Genji shifted but he ignored it, pushing it far away inside his mind.

Just as he wanted to reply he heard the monk speak again, was he ever going to let Genji speak? Was he still nervous and trying to fill the silence between them with as many words as he could?  
The orb!? He had left it on his cot when Mondatta had picked him up, surely nothing would happen to it while it was left unattended?

Hearing the man beside him laugh made Genji snap his attention back to their conversation and he looked at Zenyatta again. Clearly, the man was still uneasy with their situation, as much as he liked to try and cover it up with his steady stream of words. Genji could tell with the way the monk sat and carried himself. Something was clearly still on the man’s mind and Genji was quite sure what that something was, his nightmare still vivid inside his mind.

He shivered at the memory of the dream and the emotions attached to it. The emptiness creeping back into his body and mind and the cyborg pulled the blanket tighter around himself in a desperate attempt to hold himself together and keep the growing wave of emotions inside of him. Taking in a deep breath, to try and calm himself he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.

 **“You talk a lot…”,** Genji commented once he opened his eyes again, looking straight at Zenyatta. But there was no malice in his words, just dry sarcasm that he hoped would not hit a wrong nerve with the monk. He actually quite enjoyed the monk’s voice and that he was clearly attempting to break the thick ice that seemed to be between them.  
Recalling everything Zenyatta had asked and mentioned, he tried to sort his own thoughts into something that would make sense as an answer.

 **“Fon took care of me this morning, he brought me breakfast.”**  
He did not mention his irritation at the omnic’s cheerful way or how weak he had been even after sleeping a few more hours with the aid of Zenyatta’s healing orb. Surely the monk could see for himself how Genji was feeling, that would need to be enough for now.  
Taking another deep breath Genji struggled with his next few words, not yet sure about what he should do.

 **“For now, I shall stay here, until the infection has passed.”  
** It was neither a promise of staying here nor the absolute of him leaving as soon as he was back to full physical health. Where was he supposed to go anywhere? This had been his last resort…his last hope at living.

 **“As long as my sword is safe where no one may touch it, I am contempt and I-…did not mind helping you”  
** It was the truth. Genji had expected the time to be filled with a lot more tension between them, maybe even worse than that. But except that he was beginning to feel quite cold and stiff he felt fine – awake. There was still the darkness inside of him, the emptiness and everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours but somehow…he couldn’t quite explain why he was feeling better. Could it still be a lingering effect of the orb he had spent so many hours curled up around?

 **“The sword is…all I have left”** , Genji adds in an afterthought, murmuring softly and averting his eyes to look at the ground. That the sword had once been part of the connection with his dragon he did not mention. It had been his way of channelling its raw strength into a form of fighting unique to the Shimada clan. Now it was nothing more than a fancy sword…all its power lost when he had lost his dragon.

* * *

**_“You talk a lot…”_ **

Zenyatta brought his gaze around, staring for a few moments, expression blank and slack, while Genji stared back at him. The words hadn’t been spoken with any harshness, but they had been inexorably blunt. After what had to have been an uncomfortable moment longer, a smirk cracked his steely silence, the beginnings of a snicker giving way to the fine laughter creases forming either side of his eyes.

 **“And you have a way with words, Genji.”**  
His laughter was mirthful enough that it was obvious he hadn’t taken offence. Of all the things to say to him, that had not been what he had expected, but it was a welcome ice breaker. If the newcomer was willing to joke, he must be feeling a little more like his usual self…whatever that was. In any case, time would tell. Perhaps Mondatta hadn’t made the wrong choice after all.  
He silently gestured for the datapad, scrolling through the items they had catalogued before signing them all off. Mondatta could go through that at his leisure, but somehow, he would find an excuse not to, Zenyatta was sure of it.

A little snort escaped from him at the comment regarding Fon’s care. Oh, he could imagine plenty, the old omnic loved to fuss and pander and really begin to get under the feet of those he was only doing his best for. At times, Zenyatta had wondered if his pre-programmed life had ever been based in healthcare, he was expediently good at keeping humans healthy.  
 **“I’m sorry about him. Understand that he means well, he truly does, but he has very little grasp on when enough is enough.”**   
A wry smile lit up the monk’s face.   
**“He raised me, you know, for the most part. He can tell when you lie to him, I advise actually getting better before telling him you are well.”**

He let the cyborg go on - well, he didn’t want to be accused of talking too much again, did he? - and then waited a moment, considering those words. Staying here until he was recovered was a lot better than leaving simply to make certain he would die in the snowdrifts. Perhaps something Fon had said to Genji had sunk in, or maybe it had been Mondatta? He highly doubted it would have been himself. A fact Zenyatta lamented ever so slightly, the feeling tugging at his heart with thin threads of guilt; he hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming person, had he? But could they really blame him? This man, for all intents and purposes, looked like an assassin, probably had been at one point. What would an assassin want with this monastery if not to harm them?

 **“For what it is worth I am glad you decided to remain. You would not last long out there on the mountainside with an infection that advanced.”  
** That was it, keep it clinical, keep it mundane and professional…not that this was a profession so much as a vocation.

So what was that still tugging at his core if not guilt? Curiosity, the desire to know what it was he had seen in his dreams the night before. Or something more? Zenyatta’s inner self sniffed; what more could it possibly be? This man was Mondatta’s to teach, he had barely tutored some young initiates, much less helped someone with as complex a problem as Genji. This man carried with him a great many burdens, and Zenyatta was somehow intrinsically linked via means of the Iris. It was both terrifying and alluring at the same time. But curiosity killed the cat…

And just like that, the man unwittingly began to open up to him. It was a small morsel, a tidbit, nothing more or less, but the information was volunteered. Nobody had forced it out of Genji and so that meant he did, at least in part, feel some sort of trust forming here. Zenyatta’s mind zinged with the budding possibilities, to discover more, get to the bottom of what he had witnessed and help this poor soul in the same instant. But what if he pushed too far, what if Genji shut down on him again?  
 _When is too much, too much?_

He dared look back at the other, earnest intentions glimmering in those muted gold eyes. **“You have the word of my brothers and me that nobody will lay hands on that sword before it is time to return it to you.”  
** Zenyatta’s statement was true enough because he would actually need to know where it was being kept in order to do that in the first place.  
 **“And I know”** , he began, brows beetling as his gaze turned downcast, concerned, **“I know that it is important to you, that it is linked to your past, but I wonder…”** This was it, the moment that could either project them forth or push them back to the very beginning again. His stomach churning, guts knotting over and over, he felt the words start to choke him and he needed to get them _out_.  
“Did you not come here to escape your past?”

And what was Genji’s past, had the dragon been a metaphor, was that the past he was running from, a past he had seen die in that horrifying lake? It was a vision he hoped he never had to relive, and at the same time wished he could, just so he could make sense of it.

* * *

Genji tensed when Zenyatta simply stared at him but then the monk’s laughter filled the room and Genji felt a small smile tug on his own lips. He was glad that the man had not taken offence from his words, his humour could be quite dry and dark at times, especially when his mind was in an equally as dark state.

Handing over the datapad the cyborg used during the time that the monk had been busy going through everything, he continued watching him. There was something about the way Zenyatta interacted with him that was unique. He did not look at Genji like any of the other humans he had met since he had been turned into what he was now. There was no pity, no fake sympathy for something no one would be able to ever truly understand. There was only genuine curiosity that did not stem from the urge to take Genji apart and see how exactly his body worked, how everything fit together and what made him tick. Mondatta and Fon had been the same, though, somehow Genji could feel an underlining curiosity that did come from somewhere else.

Genji quickly averted his eyes when Zenyatta finished looking over the datapad. He did not want to be caught staring at the man while his thoughts ran away with him.  
When Zenyatta mentioned the fate that would have awaited Genji out on the mountainside he tensed slightly. It wasn’t like the urge to just…end it all wasn’t still there. It would make everything so much easier for him and he did not have anyone that he would leave behind who would mourn his death.

And yet when he looked at the man next to him, something inside of him unfurled and squirmed its way inside Genji’s mind. A deep-rooted ache to share everything he has been through with this man, a man he barely knew for more than a day and yet…  
 ** _“Save me! Rescue me from the demons inside my mind! Save me from myself!”_** **,** that feeling screamed inside his mind and yet none of the words ever found their way into his mouth and past his lips.

And yet he wondered…he did not know this man, knew only that he was suspicious of him and knew more than he lets on. That he had seen _something_. Why was it now that Genji felt like breaking apart in front of this man, that Zenyatta was already crawling under his skin, getting inside his mind? What was it about that voice that made Genji want to keep him talking, even if it was just idle chitchat – could Zenyatta actually ever talk too much for Genji?

Deep in his own thoughts, Genji almost missed the promise of the monk that his sword was safe and would continue to be so. His useless conduit to an entity that had been ripped from him entirely and yet the only thing he still had that was both a reminder of how things used to be and how things had been after his resurrection.

The sudden shift in Zenyatta’s posture and the way his voice turned serious made Genji shift his focus back towards the man, looking at him. Time seemed to stop entirely around them when Genji heard the words slipping from the monk’s lips.

**“How-…?”**

The cyborg tensed on the crate, his hand balling itself into a fist where he had previously grasped the blanket together around his shoulders. How could the monk know about his intentions?! Had he revealed anything during his fit of madness the day before, during his hallucination? Or in his sleep? What else did Zenyatta know? Genji felt his breath speed up, panic rising inside his chest. Did they already know about him after all? Heard of the stories of a killing machine on the loose after he had abandoned Blackwatch?

Too many thoughts were assaulting Genji at the same time and his free hand moved up towards his head in a shaking motion. Clutching his hair at the side of his head, he pushed his fist against his skull, trying to ground himself with the pain to his scalp. Trying to think clearly about this, to look at the possibilities of why Zenyatta knew about this was impossible, his mind immediately seeing only the worst possible reasons.

Everything was quickly becoming too much for the cyborg, the aching loneliness inside of him that wanted so desperately to be filled again by the presence of the dragon and the desire to plead to this man that he might save him was so strong inside his chest and yet Genji could not find the strength to utter a single word. How easy it could be if he could simply talk about his past like people talked about the weather.

But it was not that easy…too many parts of himself were too complicated to explain, too much to relive and talk about. And this man was still a stranger. It was simply not possible, and his mind made sure to tell him exactly why in all possible ways.

Knowing that the monk did not mean to harm him and that the question had not been posed with malice in mind, or so Genji hoped, helped Genji to keep the anger at bay, that stemmed from his frustration and fear. Taking in a couple of deep, shaky breaths, his lungs burned but no cough followed before he looked back at Zenyatta.  
 **“How do you know about this?!”** , the cyborg asked, his voice barely a whisper in the silence between them. Swallowing hard and averting his gaze when pain washed over him, his face contorting into a grimace at the memories that assaulted him.

 **“I-…have tried everything to escape and yet it still haunts me. How do you run from something that is in your mind…something that is your BODY!”** , Genji’s voice kept getting louder until he was almost shouting the last word. All the emotions inside of him made him shake and he moved his hand that had previously been in his hair into his lap, staring at the scars at the back of his hand.

**“The only escape I see is death.”**

* * *

Something extremely heavy now hung in the air between them, laden with the promise of this going to one extreme or the other and Zenyatta now realized just how precarious a position he had placed himself in. The monk swallowed thickly, trying to knock back the lump that had formed in his throat; he had said too much, hit too raw a nerve…and there was something about Genji that told him, even in his weakened state, he wouldn’t be much of a match in a scuffle. Yet something compelled his foolishly curious mind to blunder forwards anyway.

 **“I…I didn’t…I mean, I guessed…kind of.”**   
With one, clammy, hand, he covered his face, rubbing it firmly while muttering a few self-admonishing words. He was _better_ than this!

Zenyatta uncovered his face again, daring to look the other man in the eye - those eyes, he had known what he would see, the same eyes that stared back at him, blank and blind to their surroundings, from the bloody lake he had glimpsed in his nightmares. 

**“The Iris; sometimes it grants those who bask in the light of its halo the ability to see things, to see deeper. This is used as a means to heal the sick, to calm the fears of those it is bestowed upon. You understand?”** He did not wait to see if Genji had or not, his thoughts were running too fast for that.   
**“Only sometimes you can look too deep, you can _touch_ the halo and only the most experienced masters should attempt to do so. If a novice were to try -”  
**He paused, staring back at those motionless eyes, so very much alive and yet the light within them had all but drained. Was he afraid of how much Zenyatta knew?  
 **“Well, let’s not talk about that. The thing I wanted to tell you is that I did this, unknowingly, I fell too far, I thought it would help but instead the Iris…it showed me things…things I believe are connected to you.”**

Unable to hold that gaze for any longer, Zenyatta averted his eyes, hands now fumbling with the thick tassel that hung from an oversized ornate bead attached to his sash. Turning the object over and over in his hands gave them something to do, besides shake incessantly or twitch as the awkwardness of having said too much began to dawn on him. Biting down on his lower lip, soft though it might be, did not help him.

 **“I saw a vast lake unlike any real one that could exist. It was the deepest crimson, blood I suspect, the air smelled coppery, tainted somehow. At the centre of the lake was an island, and on that island was a - “  
** Was this such a good idea? Oh, what a fine time to get an attack of the conscience, if Mondatta found out he had spoken to Genji about this, long before he had managed to regale the tale to his master, personally, he would probably find himself on the raw end of a talking to, the resulting punishment could land him in hot water. But that was not the main concern, what if it forced Genji back to his previous state? He had barely begun to open up and here sat this foolhardy monk, still wet behind the ears, telling him of a grand vision that could have been the result of nothing more than exhaustion!

But what if it wasn’t? - Nagging doubt would be the death of him.

 **“An injured creature, a dragon crying out in pain…It looked at me and I felt it, Genji, there was this….this _connection_ ; it wanted me to help, to ease its passing, but I couldn’t.”  
**A ragged, uneasy sigh passed Zenyatta’s lips, his mouth gone dry enough he began to contemplate helping himself to the water Mondatta had left for Genji.  
“I couldn’t because it wasn’t the dragon’s time.” 

Say nothing of the haunting reflection in the pool, the dying, broken, man from your dreams. The one with eyes the same as Genji’s. And never speak of the parting thought it had left you with…that the dragon awaited its master’s call.

All bets were off, he pushed himself up into the air, the small jump vaulting him off the top of the crate and far enough across the floor, he could reach for the flask left out. Infection risk or not, he needed a drink, and his only regret was that it was nothing stronger, such as the interesting brews the villagers cooked up from time to time.

**“Apologies, I…shouldn’t have said that, not yet. You still have a long road to recovery ahead of you and I should be talking this through with Mondatta.”**

He was no master and he could well have lost his life in doing what he had. But the fact remained, however, that the Iris had shown him what it had. There was no escaping that.  
Zenyatta pivoted on one foot, offering the flask to Genji - he wasn’t going to drink it all himself - knowing he had been sat here all this time with little to hydrate himself. **  
“Here”**, he said, voice softer, almost too quiet to discern, **“You need this more than I do and we should head back inside.”**

* * *

Genji looked back up at the man when he began to speak. It was clear to him that it took Zenyatta great courage to get the words out and tell the cyborg about the Iris and what it had granted him a glimpse of. Was the monk afraid of how Genji might react? That he would attack him? For the first time, it truly pained Genji that his appearance alone inflicted fear and unease. Before he had relished in this fact, it had made people back away from him, leave him be. Now? Now it cut him like a knife, seeing that Zenyatta not only feared his body but his temper as well.

Watching the monk fumble with his hands, averting his eyes made Genji even more nervous. All thoughts had stopped in their tracks when Zenyatta had mentioned that this mysterious Iris might have shown him something that was connected to him. Tensing further, his spine straightening and his breath coming in slow, laboured huffs he waited for the man to continue.

As soon as he heard the description of what Zenyatta had seen, flashes of his nightmare flickered through his mind, showing him exactly what he had seen. The lake of blood, the island…  
His dragon.

It felt like a punch to the gut when his thoughts began crashing back into him, flashbacks of his nightmare assaulting him and making him see and feel what he had that night. How had Zenyatta been able to see what he had seen in his nightmare? Since whatever had happened with the Iris had happened when he had hallucinated the blood and killing. His nightmare had been almost exactly what the monk described to him now.

A searing pain shot through Genji when the feeling of emptiness assaulted him, a feeling as if something had been violently torn from him – from his soul. Buckling over, Genji leaned forward trying to calm his breathing when the pain threatened to overwhelm him. A groan slipped from his lips and he pulled both arms around himself, once again trying to keep himself in one piece when he felt more than ever like he was falling apart.

How could the monk have been able to see his dragon? To see a part of his soul that was lost to him and yet his dragon had even tried to communicate with Zenyatta? Even though the dragon was his own being it was still a part of Genji…so had Zenyatta also seen the cyborg? The part of him that screamed to beg the monk to save him from himself riled up inside his mind.

Genji looked up towards the monk from his curled-up position, trying to straighten his posture again with the pain still coursing through him. He watched Zenyatta drink from the flask that he had previously been offered and stared at him in confusion when he heard his apology. Why was he apologizing? It was clearly something that had been pressing on his mind…did he care for Genji’s well-being enough to regret his words?

The offered flask finally pulled Genji out of his thoughts and with shaking hands he took it from the monk, emptying it in both thirst and the urge to stall himself some more time. Everything was still confusing him but he knew for certain that he was not angry at the man standing in front of him. If anything, it had made him even more curious about the nature of this Iris and the ways of the monks. And if Zenyatta had been able to see his dragon…would that explain the weird connection he felt towards the man?

Genji tried calming himself and to his own surprise, he was actually able to do so. Slowly he rose from the crate he had been sitting on, setting down the flask and turning his attention to the monk. The blanket slipping from his shoulders as he took a careful step forward, even closer towards Zenyatta.

 **“You have seen…my dragon. My nightmare”** , he murmured, looking into the monk’s eyes as if the answers to all his questions may lie in those amber-coloured depths. Now that they were standing face to face for the first time, Genji noticed that he had a few inches over Zenyatta though the cyborg wondered why it was suddenly relevant for him.

 **“My dream was what you saw. How can this be? How could you…have seen a part of my soul?”** , Genji asked not realizing how much he was revealing about the nature of his dragon. His confusion showed clearly in his tone, his gaze flickering over the monk’s face briefly before settling back on his eyes. He didn’t notice the way his body began to shake from the cold, now that the blanket didn’t shield himself from it anymore.

 **“What-…”** , Genji began to speak but a cough raked through his body and made him sway where he stood. Moving a hand to cover his mouth he turned away from Zenyatta to curl his upper body slightly down to try and ease the pain in his lungs.  
Turning back around to Zenyatta with his breath coming heavy and sweat beading on his forehead, he looked at him once again.

**“What does this mean?!”**

* * *

_His_ dragon? There was so much certainty spoken in that one exclamation, Genji knew precisely what he was talking about with very little in the way of elaboration on the part of Zenyatta. He had seen this creature before, he knew this creature and what it was a manifestation of. And Genji knew because it was an intrinsic _part_ of him.

**“I…don’t know. I just thought that the Iris wanted me to see…I didn’t know that you saw it too…”**

Unaware that he had shrunk back at all, the monk found himself teetering on the edge of the crate, knocking the, once carefully balanced, datapad onto the floor with a clatter just loud enough to startle himself. Down Zenyatta tumbled, a flurry of whispering fabrics and flailing limbs that culminated in the inevitable thud as his back hit the ground. It wasn’t far to fall, but it was just enough to knock the air from his lungs and send a cloud of dust up into the air where he had previously been seated.

**“Unff!”**

A moment passed, barely a heartbeat, when one hand arose from the settling particles, wiggling around a couple of times before it planted itself firmly on the top of the crate.  
 **“I’m alright!”** , Zenyatta’s dry, slightly pained rasp informed Genji. **“I’m fine.”**

He pulled himself upright, rubbing the soreness now blooming at the base of his spine and resisting the urge to go and sit in the largest pile of snow he could find just to quell the swelling that would inevitably follow in the hours to come. It paled in significance to the redness forming across his face, however, a crimson creep that had slid its way up from beneath the higher reaches of his Kasaya, deigning to brave the light of day.  
He had his health, but his pride and any illusion of grace and poise he had ever projected were now in tatters.

**“Nothing broken.”**

As one hand swept back to dust off his rear, he heard it: The clinking, delicate sound of glass shards tinkling against the storage building’s stone floor. A groan, because he already knew what he was going to see when he dared to crane his neck back and look, at the remnants of a very shattered datapad.

 **“I take that back”** , Zenyatta sighed, hefting the slightly flatter looking device into view and depositing its remnants on the top of the crate next to the cyborg. **“One thing broken…all our hard work, for _nothing.”_**

Patience was a virtue Zenyatta had in spades, usually, which was why this was so uncharacteristically pessimistic for the young monk. He would not sit and bemoan what had been done, he would not lament it because there was no altering the past, and that did not have to dictate your future. The Zenyatta most others at this monastery knew would have swept up the mess and begun again until the task was done, and who knew, he may even have improved upon it. Yet this was all unfolding for a reason, the very reason sitting in front of him now, occupying a cyborg sized space in his immediate life.  
He had spilt the majority of his inner thoughts, the vision he had believed the Iris had bestowed upon him and him alone, then Genji had torn that theory asunder, told him that he had seen exactly the same thing and _knew_ what it represented.  
Zenyatta may not have delved that deep, had not opened himself so freely to the Iris’ light as he had that day, but in all the times he had allowed himself similar, lesser, dalliances, never had someone, who was not a part of the Shambali, seen what he had. This was new, untouched, ground, and Zenyatta’s mind was whirling with thoughts of what he should do with this information.

 _This is far beyond your level of capability, just tell Mondatta exactly what you saw._ \- But was it? The Iris had shown those visions to _him_ , not to his master…yet they had all heard it.  
 _The dragon’s cries_.

To hide the minor tremors shaking his hands, the monk pulled himself up from the floor, further dusting down his robes, thoughts a quagmire of stormy feelings and uncertainty. Genji certainly was imposing, but here he sat, weakened by internal infection and wounded by a past Zenyatta had barely scratched the surface of. What kind of soul had a dragon as its spectral effigy? None he had glimpsed before now.

He needed to get a grip to find the sense in all of this, before the other sensed his lapse in strength.  
Genji’s barking, hacking, cough returned in full force, no doubt aided by the dust clouds he had managed to kick up, a gentle reminder that he was not out of the woods of succumbing to that infection yet.

 **“Nothing.”** , Zenyatta replied, resolutely, a masque of calm resolution descending over his person - much better, far more believable. **“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”  
** And it didn’t. But then, he never truly believed that. Gesticulating, he scooped up the broken tablet and began to make for the door, offering Genji a hand to help him up.

**“Come, we should get you back to the infirmary before Fon sends out a search party.”**

* * *

Genji didn’t even flinch when the datapad hit the floor, his eyes trained on Zenyatta. He watched him back away from him and hit the crate behind his legs, following the pad to the ground. Genji winced slightly in sympathy when he heard the thud of the monk hitting the ground and he instinctively leaned down slightly as if he was about to help the man up. Stopping himself in his tracks, he remembered that Zenyatta would most likely not want Genji touching him…and Genji did not want to risk hurting the man further.  
Instead, Genji took a step back, moving his hand in front of his face, trying to stop the dust from getting into his airways, without much luck. Another few coughs rattled his lungs and made him shake, his legs beginning to feel weak once more. Staggering backwards he let himself fall back on the crate with a loud groan.

Had he inflicted so much fear in the young man, that he was now the cause of his pain? He had backed away from Genji after all…

The cyborg watched Zenyatta get up, noticing the way he was moving carefully to test how seriously he had hurt himself. And even with the reassuring words, Genji’s guilt started to bloom inside his chest. His head snapped up and he looked over the monk’s body when he heard his words but he relaxed slightly when he saw what Zenyatta had just found – the broken datapad. Somehow Genji could not get himself to care for the lost data instead, his mind lingered on the way the monk has reacted to him.

Shivering from the cold that was now assaulting his body without the blanket protecting him from it he coughed once more, the dust around them finally beginning to settle. Before he closed his eyes, with the cough shaking him once more, he saw the way the monk’s hand trembled slightly. The feeling of guilt was like a slap to his face, telling him to wake up from his dream. As nice as everyone had been to him so far, it was all happening on borrowed time – until everyone realized that they had let a monster in.

How could anyone not be afraid of him? With his red glowing eyes, his metallic, sharp body and the many scars on the few parts of human skin that he had left? He was made to inflict fear and pain…his makers would be proud that he had made even a monk stagger back in fear just by standing in front of him.

**_“Nothing.”_ **

The word hit Genji like a whip and he flinched as he looked towards the monk. The calm voice betrayed nothing of the trembling of hands he had just seen, and the cyborg was left with a feeling of nothingness. Did it truly mean nothing? A shared vision – a nightmare that had shown the same scenes as a vision _someone else_ had had only hours before? And that he had been able to feel his dragon after years of being sure that it was dead…was this all nothing?

His confusion and frustration quickly turned to anger, his hands shaking from the force that it hit him with. How easily his soul was dismissed by the monk. Genji didn’t want to admit the pain it caused him to hear Zenyatta say that it most likely did not mean anything. Clenching his jaw, the cyborg took deep breaths. It was not the Zenyatta’s fault…he did not know about how important the dragon was to Genji. And that he had believed it to be gone forever. And yet, he was the only one Genji could project his anger on.

Genji felt the exhaustion in his body but the anger pushed it back, replacing it with a rush of adrenalin. Watching Zenyatta pick up the broken pieces of the datapad he slowly reached for the blanket lying on the floor in front of his feet. As he moved his upper body up he heard Zenyatta speak again and he turned back towards him.

Remembering the way Mondatta had to help him reach the room they were in right now Genji clenched his jaw even tighter until he felt pain in his teeth, bones and muscles. He would not depend on Zenyatta on his way back, would not burden the man with himself after he so clearly spooked him.

Slapping the offered hand away to the side with his cybernetic one he heaved himself up from the crate to stand, blanket clutched tightly in his left hand. A groan left his lips that sounded closer to a growl. Collecting his strength and channelling the anger and frustration into his body he walked towards the door, passing Zenyatta. Once he reached the door he pushed it open, blinking against the sudden brightness and the searing pain it caused in his eyes and head. Staring at the distance between where he stood and the next wall he might lean against.

Turning his head slightly, he looked back at Zenyatta shortly before stepping outside and slowly walking, staggering, towards the hallway that he had come from. He hoped Zenyatta would soon follow him. He had been able to remember part of the way that he had taken to reach the winter storage but not all of it, so he would ultimately end up getting lost in the halls. He would likely break down somewhere if no one guided him back to his room…but right now Genji did not care about this – his only intent was to get over this courtyard.


	6. Chapter Six

Zenyatta’s reactions were fast, but not fast enough for this cyborg. What was intended as discouraging thwack saw alloy connecting with flesh and bone hard enough for a delayed sting to resonate through Zenyatta’s hastily recoiled hand. Sucking air in through gritted teeth, he shook the pained limb a couple of times, expression pinched into a deep and sudden frown.

**“What was that for!?”**

But Genji was already on his way out of the door, slow, but far faster than he should have been moving considering his condition, tromping over the frozen pathways and keeping to the edges where the snow had collected.  
Zenyatta tossed the broken tablet aside, it was useless now anyway and hurried to close and lock the storage building’s door. Behind him he could hear the other walking away, the scraping of metallic feet crunching the ice that had the misfortune to be captured beneath them.

Maybe he should have feared to turn his back on Genji, he would have certainly been well within his rights to, considering, but rather than engaging him before, the sickly man had simply snubbed his offer of help and made for the off alone. He’d chosen to retreat, so all being judged correctly, Zenyatta believed he was safe, for now.

**“Wait!….You aren’t supposed to be…”**

Genji kept walking and Zenyatta groaned to himself, shoulders slumped, resigned.  
He trailed after him, legs pumping as he ran to close the distance between him and the cyborg, feet crunching down the snow obnoxiously, his voice calling out as he went.

**_“Wait!”_ **

A bracing gust of wind whipped across the monastery grounds, catching the layers of Zenyatta’s kasaya and propelling part of it up to obscure his view for the few seconds it took for him to bundle it down again, silently cursing the impractical robes, when he much preferred a simple pair of pants and little else. That thought was barely out of the gates of his imagination when he realized, almost too late, that he was by Genji’s side. Clumsily skidding to a halt, the young monk tried to recover his breath and his composure, settling for one out of the two when he realized that the man wore that same, harrowed expression he had the day before.  
He never should have brought up the vision - no, the coincidental dream, it couldn’t be more than that, could it? - Never should have lain this much burden on his shoulders while Genji was still sick with an infection.

**“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this, you need help.”**  
Yet again, he extended an arm, the same arm that still throbbed with the dull ache of that ‘tap’ earlier. Well, Fon had always complained he was oversensitive whenever he had accidentally hurt himself, there was no better time, or reason, to get over that assumption.  
 **“You aren’t well yet and - Look…don’t do it for me, do it for Fon.”**  
And why, Genji might wonder, should he do it for an omnic he had barely known for all of twenty-four hours? Why indeed. Zenyatta spoke from experience.  
 **“Because he is never going to give you a moments peace if he sees you walk into that infirmary without someone helping you.”**

Again, he wiggled his arm, trying to coerce Genji into seeing past whatever stubborn barrier he had decided to erect between them now.  
 **“We need to show him that Mondatta and I can be trusted to keep good care of you, understand?”**  
Yes, Mondatta, that was exactly who this was for because Iris forbid Fon voice anymore of his concerns in the form of actions.  
 **“We as in you _and_ I.”**   
And then he would tell Mondatta all about the dream, the fact that his master, himself, had been awoken by the same terrible cries.

That was just the issue, though, wasn’t it? Zenyatta already knew the man had spoken the truth, that the dragon had been a manifestation of a part of Genji, the two were connected deeply, intertwined. He just had to know beyond all shadow of a doubt.

It was about this time he noticed that Genji had paused, there on the threshold under the shade of the temple’s ornate doorway. Inside the pleasant and warm air waited for them, the scent of incense wafted through the opening, a welcome, calming reminder of home for Zenyatta, who wasn’t so certain that it would have the same effect on Genji, not for now.  
Disappointment had begun to bleed into the outer reaches of his hopeful expression, arm dipping a bit in the air - at least the cold had stopped his hand throbbing - when it didn’t look like the cyborg would take him up on the offer.

**“Take my arm and I will try my best to secure you your own room in the village a little faster. I will even help you relocate there. Do we have a deal?”**  
Perhaps he was a fool for trying, for ever suggesting what Genji had experienced was nothing more than a dream. But there was no going back now, he had to salvage what he could.

* * *

Genji tried to ignore the calls coming from the monk behind him. He continued walking slowly towards the edge of the courtyard, keeping the wall there in his focus to not lose the strength and will to reach it. Just as he heard quick footsteps behind him, he felt the wind pick up around him. It was pushing against him and Genji groaned when he had to put all his strength into his muscles to keep upright. Staggering in his tracks he stopped until the wind calmed once again. Shivering and by now cold to the bones he looked at the monk that now standing beside him.

Ignoring both the words and the outstretched arm the cyborg continued walking, his jaw clenched tightly together to not have the monk hear his teeth chatter. Every step Genji now took felt like it was the last he would ever be able to take and after every single one of them, he screamed at himself inside his mind to continue walking, to reach the wall and lean against it – He didn’t need any help from others!

Genji wanted to scream, to shout when he finally reached the doorway, leaning heavily against the wall and letting his head rest against the cold stones. His legs shaking violently as he stood still, closing his eyes and breathing through the pain that threatened to overtake his mind.

Why should he care about what some omnic might think if he reached the infirmary without help? Why should he care about some room in the village, the room he had stayed in so far was more than enough for Genji. It had a bathroom and a bed, what else would he need. Except for his sword he had no belongings.

**“I-…left the infirmary without someone grabbing my arm…”** , Genji pressed out between heavy breathing. His lungs were beginning to burn – every breath hurt inside his chest. It felt like his body was on fire again, sweat quickly collecting on his forehead even as his body shook from the cold.

**“…I can return to it the same way!”** , he finished his sentence and pushed himself from the wall with a pained grunt. Trailing his arm along the stones, he collapsed against the old walls after a few steps, coughs interrupting his breathing and making his body shake. His head was beginning to pound with a headache that he had not noticed previously.

Calming his breathing once the violent coughs have stopped, he turned slightly to look at Zenyatta lingering next to him. How desperately he wanted to reach out and take that offered arm, lean his tired body on the monk and accept the help that was being offered. The deep ache for human contact was roaring up inside of him, the memory of the warmth at his shoulder from Mondatta’s touch still fresh in his mind. And yet…he was too afraid. There was too much blood on his hand, he was a monster and Zenyatta was a monk – pure in more ways than Genji had ever been. Touching him would surely taint him, corrupt him.

**“Bribery will get you nowhere, monk…”** , he replied, his voice sounding almost like a growl laced with anger and frustration at the attempt of the monk to make him feel guilty over this, over worrying the omnic. His anger was boiling inside of him, fueled by the utter exhaustion that was threatening to take over his body.

**“I do not care for a room! I have nothing to _relocate_! There is nothing left…nothing!”**, Genji felt like he should be shouting with how angry he felt and yet his voice was barely more than his usual tone but clearly filled with the emotions that were creating the turmoil inside of him. Taking in more deep breaths to both try and calm himself and to stop the sudden feeling of drowning he let himself fall heavily against the wall, using the last of his strength to keep upright.

**“You would never understand! There is no ‘WE’ in this”** , he gestured between them with his cybernetic arm, the other still clutching the blanket tightly in a fist. How could there be a ‘we’ when the monk did not even think that their shared vision, dream, _something!_ could mean anything. It was nothing…

**“You only care about doing your duties here and if the omnic trusts you to take care of me. About if you’re being a good student or not!”** , Genji growled angrily, his voice still not raised but biting nonetheless. A part of him knew that it was unfair to let his anger out now, against the only person that was available…a person who wasn‘t even with him willingly, only because his orders were to take care of him.

His anger was not getting any less, agitation growing more and more inside of him. Grabbing his left arm with his cybernetic one he pushed his fingers against the skin, the painful pressure giving his mind something to focus on. Once his muscles got used to the pressure, Genji began scratching over the skin and continued to push into it on a different spot. He felt like shouting, screaming, thrashing and hitting the wall but he knew he could do no such thing…not as long as he was still with Zenyatta and his body was this weak.

Taking a long, deep breath he looked over at Zenyatta, meeting his gaze.  
 **“I am just so…tired…”** , he then murmured.  
 ** _“…of being alone and in pain, of always running and being afraid of both myself and others…of feeling incomplete”,_** he added, only in his mind, his eyes closing and a pained expression flickering over his face, his head hitting the wall with a soft thud as he pushed it backwards.

* * *

Zenyatta sighed softly but did not give any ground. Why were they all so stubborn?

**“I believe you, but that does not mean you should have done it, it does not mean you should be walking back in there alone either.”  
** Had the Iris sent Genji to test his patience, or to confuse him? Because the former barely dented the surface and the latter was certainly true of the visions he had seen. An injured soul was an injured soul - he reminded himself.

**“I’m not suggesting this for my own health, nor to ease my conscience. You came to us, if you recall.”**  
A little white lie sometimes served a purpose, an extra kick to get the ball rolling so to speak. And if it spurred Genji into rescinding his suddenly guarded and touchy attitude, all the better, because there was one thing that Zenyatta was not, and that was deterred. The truth was he did care and not just because he had been delegated this task, either. Those were thoughts he couldn’t entertain at the present moment, but they waited patiently at the back of his mind, hidden in the dark for now.

**“I’m offering for your own good, that is not bribery.”  
** The added moniker of simply _‘monk’_ made the skin on the back of his neck prickle, a certain heat sliding up his spine to where it fanned out the moment it broke against the base of his skull. Such scorn couldn’t be genuine, but it was rankling. But there would be no giving in to it, that would have been woefully inept of him. Rather, he could let it out later, the privacy of his own room, at training, anywhere that wasn’t near Genji.  
 **“I merely thought that you would prefer privacy to the constant attention you are going to be receiving, I speak from experience, but perhaps I was wrong in my assumption. Do correct me if that is the case.”**  
And he would, possibly out of spite, Zenyatta thought to himself, he was already braced for it, unaware of just how uptight this was actually making _him_. Genji would push and push, needle away, he had seen this before with others, trying to find a way in to make him crack and break so they would have an excuse to lay the blame. Not on his watch!

The strain behind the voice now projected his way had grown tense enough to sound hostile, damning, imbued with a hatred even its speaker had not the energy to muster right now. This was draining Genji, Zenyatta knew, yet he couldn’t tear himself away nor could he forcefully drag Genji back to where he needed to be. They were stuck here until the stubborn cyborg decided they needed to leave, failing lungs or not.

And it took all of the monk’s strength not to flinch or move back when Genji began to motion between the two of them. Although he stood within striking distance, a display of mistrust would ruin hours of good work…And then the lamenting, galling thought: If they weren’t ruined already.  
 ** _“I_** **, would never understand?”**  
Zenyatta’s inner self recoiled, that had sounded far too much like an adverse reaction, defensiveness. Yet he could not prevent the fall when he had already started to tumble. **“You stand here, knowing nothing about me but my na - You don’t even** _remember_ my name! And you are telling me I cannot understand _what_ , exactly?”

_‘Stay still, breathe, do not go for the bait this is exactly what he wants.’_

**“I understand great loss, I understand the fear that comes with it’s many, terrible, questions, I understand plenty, Genji. And you assume too much.”**

Zenyatta took a step back, the tension in his shoulders setting them broader than their usual, relaxed, state. He needed to be rid of this, the cloud of discord that seemed to follow Genji around like a bad stench. It’s density, which had grown over the passing hour, now seemed so thick and pregnant with negativity that it was set to burst. He could no longer sense the light of the Iris through it and that was all but damning. There was another way, there had to be, there was always another way.

Letting his arm drop to his side, its twin reached up, hand brushing back over his finely fuzzed scalp, kneading pressure points diligently until he could feel some of the ache dissipate. Approaching this from the same, defensive, position Genji was, would be like rams butting heads on the mountainside. Sooner or later one of them would lose their footing, and if either of them did that, it would have been for nothing.

_Iris grant me strength_. Zenyatta was going to need it.

**“You’re right.”**  
The statement was not nearly as terse as it could have been, rather a matter of fact but not in the least bit blunt, and the monk could almost taste the confusion, the conflict pouring from the other in stark contrast to his own disposition.  
 **“I care about those things, about being a good student, about Fon’s trust. I care because the people each of these things pertain to, matter to me. But ask yourself this: Would I have offered you a relative luxury when all I needed to do to secure their trust, their admiration, would be to tend to you in the infirmary?”**

Allowing that to hang in the air between them gave him breathing space, several deep, measured, breaths that helped force down the dissent and irritation caused by all this negativity. Genji had started to tire too, and a great part of that clearance came via the dampening presence of guilt. What were they doing out here arguing? This was stupid.

**“Not every soul you meet along your path is self-serving and contrary to what you assume, I for one, do not wish this to have been for nothing, for your sake.”  
** _-You are worth so much more, if you’d only_ see _it. But by the light of the Iris, you are stubborn and….and annoying.-_  
Zenyatta’s hand pointed the way again, his moment’s dalliance into lack of composure was passing, much to his relief and that of his rapidly cramping gut.  
 **“You must rest. I will not help you if that is what you ask, but I won’t leave you out here alone.”**

* * *

Genji let his head rest against the wall for a few more moments, his eyes closed as he took in Zenyatta’s words and mulled them over inside his mind. He had been quick to judge the man and it had been wrong of him, he knew that the moment his words had left his mouth. But to hear that the monk has experienced loss came as a shock to him, even if it might still greatly differ to the loss Genji had experienced. He realized that he indeed knew nothing about the man standing in front of him.

Of course, Zenyatta cared about his duties and about the trust from Fon…because he cared about the people behind these tasks. How long has it been for Genji since he had last been able to allow himself to care? The last person he had cared for, that he had trusted, had been…his brother.

Slowly Genji felt his anger be swept away, realizing that it had all been him once again. He had seen the worst behind Zenyatta’s words and his wounded pride and the fear of letting someone close had riled him up into the state that had started their fighting. Letting go of a breath that he had not realized he was holding, Genji opened his eyes, staring at the ground in front of his legs.

He knew it was unfair towards Zenyatta to let this die, to ignore the words the monk had spoken but the cyborg knew no other way out of this situation than to act as if he had not just baited the man into a verbal fight.

**“I-…I do remember your name, Zenyatta”** , he murmured softly as he looked up from the ground to the man in front of him, letting their eyes meet and holding his gaze. He could not find the strength within himself to apologize, even when he knew he should. He desperately wished that those words were enough for now and that Zenyatta might understand them as Genji’s own form of an apology, a sign for peace.

Now that his anger was leaving his body and the adrenaline with it, he felt the exhaustion and the aching pain taking over his senses, the infection rearing its ugly head and making Genji shake where he stood leaning against the wall. His brain was beginning to move slower than it had before with the adrenaline coursing through his veins and he could no longer think about all the words the monk had spoken…all he knew was that Zenyatta had been right. And that the younger man seemed to…care…about him beyond the duty and task that had been assigned to him.

His self-doubt, hatred and fear lifted their ugly head at that, telling him that he was not worth Zenyatta’s attention and that he would surely ruin it all, hurt him…taint him with his bloody past. Genji flinched when flashbacks to the hallucination from the day before flicker through his mind – Zenyatta’s throat cut open and him bleeding out, adding to the lake of blood he already found himself in. He began shivering and his back began to grow cold against the stones he was leaning against. He groaned softly and finally moved his eyes away from Zenyatta, staring at the wall behind the man.

**“I-…”** , Genji began but stopped himself, balling his fist and bunching up the blanket in his hand. Suddenly realizing that he had it in his hands he pushed himself away from the wall on unsure, shaking legs to try and wrap it back around his upper body. The fabric felt just as cold, having lost all its previous warmth to the cold air around them, he still tried to pull it over his shoulders and after a bit of fumbling, he managed to get it done.

**“The infirmary…my room. I don’t know how to get there”** , he then admitted in almost a whisper. For Genji admitting the fact that he did not know how to get back to the infirmary was a show of great weakness. He felt exposed to the scrutiny of Zenyatta and at the same time he could not blame the man if he would laugh. Just a few minutes ago Genji had denied all need of help and now…he was asking for the way, for Zenyatta to guide him.

As he shrugged, still trying to adjust the blanket tighter around him and swaying on his feet Genji dared to look at Zenyatta again. The man’s face wasn’t betraying any emotions, so he quickly looked away again, leaning his body back against the wall. He immediately felt too hot with the blanket around him and yet his body was still shivering from the cold – his fever returning in full assault.

* * *

Something in Genji turned about-face, whipping around, not unlike that serpentine creature he had witnessed dying in his dreams. A shudder rolled through Zenyatta - perhaps there really was something to this facet of a soul theory Genji had spoken about. He understood it, even if the monk had been partly unwilling to believe him at the time. There was no denying cold, hard evidence, however.

The gentle tone in which his name was spoken was enough to drive away the bitter battle raging on inside him, bring his eyes up to stare back at those crimson ones, now watching him without wavering. Caught, Zenyatta held that stare, unsure of where this was going to lead. He didn’t have the time nor energy for another argument, and neither did Genji.

Maybe he had been a bit rash himself. It wasn’t like him to get riled up by so little, either, but this man had found the boundaries of his patience and prodded at them until he had been cornered. The sooner he spoke to Mondatta about the whole night’s ordeal, the better, perhaps request that he allow him to resume tending to his studies once Genji was better. Surely his master would wish to teach Genji himself?

**“I can show you the way.”** , he replied, at last, a belated smile tugging at the corners of his lips, **“It’s easy to become lost here, every hallway looks the same.”**  
It didn’t, not to Zenyatta at least, but it went a small way to soothing Genji’s bruised ego - something Mondatta would not neglect to tell him needed to be discarded, once his teaching began.

There he went again, making concessions for an almost stranger, and not the faintest idea why. And yet again he cast it to the back of his mind to be lost or reticulated in the small hours of the morning, while he dozed, trying to ignore the call to meditation.

Beckoning Genji to follow, he slowed the pace a little, deliberately pausing now and then to examine some unseen spot on the horizon, so that the cyborg could catch up. He looked about ready to drop, and should he, Zenyatta was fully prepared to catch him before he crumpled. They ducked into the relative warmth of the monastery a few minutes later, Zenyatta tromping the snow from his feet just inside the door - it wouldn’t do to traipse it all through the halls. Slow and steady, ambling and then pausing, they made it back to the infirmary without further event, and in what wasn’t an entirely uncomfortable silence.

**“Do you need anything?”** , Zenyatta asked, pushing open the door to allow Genji to pass.   
**“I need to find Mondatta in a moment, he will need to know about the inventory, but if you need more water, blankets, some food…it’s no trouble.”**  
But he could trouble him for some time enough to find the answers to his questions. Burning questions at that.

Standing in the doorway, he dallied, thoughts torn between actually staying and trying to find some resolution to what they had discussed before - Genji had to have questions too - and leaving to find a more comprehensive answer before he conferred with Genji at all. And then there was the not so small matter of the vision having come from the Iris. Was that where he should seek his answers? It was risky, but not undoable, he could commune with the Iris any time he wished and be refreshed for it, but seeking those particular answers meant potentially delving as deep as he had before, and that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Zenyatta already knew what Mondatta would say, and a hard insistence of ‘no’ wasn’t going to help him.

The library, then? There had to be a record of someone who had done similarly, that this had happened to. And then there was the imagery itself; why a dragon of all creatures? Was it really just a manifestation, a metaphor, or something more? Too many unanswered questions were going to drive him mad and standing here wasn’t getting them sorted.

**“Thank you for your help earlier. It wasn’t all for nothing, I’ll have Fon take a look at the tablet.”  
** Feet already itching to leave, he waited for the okay.

* * *

Genji felt relief flood his system when Zenyatta’s aura shifted into something calmer once again. The monk’s eyes holding his gaze and for the cyborg it felt like time suddenly moved just a little slower around them. Those amber-coloured eyes so impressive, the light dancing softly over the man’s face making it seem like the colours were shifting as well. He could get lost in those beautiful, expressive eyes…

He pulled himself away from them when Zenyatta spoke, a careful smile on the man’s lips once again. His own words had apparently been the right choice even if it had been difficult for Genji to speak them out loud. He did not have the energy to continue this fight and his body was clearly signalling him that he should be in bed instead of standing in a cold hallway.

**“Thank you…”** , he whispered softly, almost hoping that the monk would not hear his words yet wanting to voice them anyway.

Pushing himself away from the wall with a heaving breath he slowly began following the monk back to his room. Every now and then Genji needed to stop, whenever his breathing came in harsh puffs of air and he felt like he might collapse at any moment because not enough air reached his lungs. Other times violent coughs shook him and made it almost impossible for him to stay standing upright.

Once they had reached the warmth of the hallways inside the buildings Genji hoped his shivering might subside but to his shock, the contrary seemed to be the case. As soon as the warmth surrounded him his shivering got worse and he was more than happy when they finally reached a door at which Zenyatta stopped to hold it open for him.

Stepping inside and walking the short distance to his cot without anything to support himself, Genji collapsed on it and curled himself into a ball trying desperately to stop his body from shaking. The man’s healing orb rolls against him, having been left behind on the cot before. His face felt flushed and his hair was once again sticking to his forehead in greasy streaks. Closing his eyes to try and stop the room from spinning so rapidly before his eyes after he laid down a little too fast, he groaned when he felt the telltale sign of another spurt of coughs inside his lungs.

Opening his eyes once the violent coughs subside again he looked back up towards Zenyatta, nodding slowly, accepting the thank you from the monk for his help with the last strength he had. Looking at the monk he could feel the nervous energy radiate off of him, he was ready to leave,…so how could Genji be so selfish as to ask the man for anything. He still had the other two blankets lying on the other end of the bed and he would be able to get them over his shivering body somehow once the monk had left. He wasn’t feeling hungry…but his mouth and throat felt dry.

**“…water?”** , he asked, puzzled about hearing only the one word, he surely had intended to speak an entire sentence…where had that gotten lost? Closing his eyes once again, concentrating on keeping his breathing shallow as to not irritate his lungs and triggering yet another fit of coughs he tried to ignore the pain inside of him and his body.

* * *

Spying the otherwise innocuous orb, Zenyatta turned back on himself, recalling it to hand without too much thought as to how this would look to a man no longer beside himself with distress, the fever rose and fell, but Genji had seemed more present with him than in previous hours. Still, there was no denying that the man was in a poor way, curled up on the cot, shivering and coughing - those awful lung-rattling coughs - and that demanded what attention he could give.

Once again he was charging the orb between his hands, he could do without it for the duration, he would not be needing it for what he intended to do later, whilst quickly stepping to the far side of the room to recover the jug filled with water. Orb floating above his palm, bobbing in midair as it began to ring with that warm, golden, energy again, he used his free hand to pick up the jug and turn to refill Genji’s glass. Once done, he set the jug down next to it, the more fluids he took the better.

**“Here, drink”** , Zenyatta said, not having heard the repetition of that one word as a question, more of a request.

He settled back on the spare cot for a moment, concentrating his energy on the orb rather than what was truly playing on his mind. In no time at all, the sphere was charged, and he held it out to the other, noticing for the first time that Genji had his back turned to him. Inside, something almost sorrowful tugged at his thoughts, the guilt, he knew, that he had thought about leaving at all. He could speak to Mondatta later. His own concerns would wait another few hours, Genji’s health would not.  
A deft flick of his wrist and the orb took to the air, a bright tail of golden light threading its orbit to the shivering mass of cyborg now curled up tight on the bed.

**“No hands necessary. It’ll stay there as long as I’m here to keep it there.”  
** He didn’t know if Genji would hear him, much less appreciate the company, but regardless, Zenyatta was here to help.

The hours passed quicker than he would have thought possible, with Genji resting, lucid, as he fought off the fluctuating infection and Zenyatta silently picking over every little detail of the dream, vision, _whatever_ it was supposed to be. In the end, none of his theories seemed better than the original assumption: The Iris had shown this to him for a reason, yet not everything he glimpsed was necessarily real or literal.  
By the time Mondatta arrived with food, Zenyatta was already on his way out, near colliding with his master in the middle of the hall.

**“In a hurry, aren’t we?”** , the older monk quipped, amused.  
Zenyatta breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging - at least it wasn’t Fon, he would have felt worse leaving Genji to deal with his fussing.  
 **“Actually, I was on my way to speak with you.”** , came the hopeful reply.  
Mondatta canted his head, a brief nod for Zenyatta to continue. It was just the two of them in the hall unless someone opened a door, they would not be overheard.

**“Last night, you came to check in on Genji too. You heard it, I know you did, but there was more I didn’t tell you.”**  
Nervously worrying his lower lip between his teeth, the younger monk watched Mondatta put the tray down.  
 **“The cry, that…roar, I heard it in my dreams, I saw where it came from.”**

A tap of one sandaled foot and Mondatta spoke. **  
“Are you sure it was not a lucid dream? You have been spending your time in the company of someone with a fever, you may have caught-”  
** **“-No.”,** Zenyatta interrupted, **“No, I’m fine, it wasn’t a lucid dream, there was so much leading up to the dragon’s calls, these…feelings. Like it wanted me to see it was dying.”**

**“Truly? And you believe this has a connection because…?”**

Zenyatta nodded enthusiastically, they were both on the right track.  
 **“When I touched the halo of the Iris, I saw a glimpse of a vision, a man looking down at his own reflection, a reflection in a pool of blood, and in my dream, I did similarly before something, this _creature_ , prompted me to look up.”**  
Unbeknownst to him, he had begun to pace, his speech quickening excitably. That was until Mondatta placed one, large, hand on his student’s bare shoulder and Zenyatta stopped, flushing a little duskier - yet another of his bad habits.  
 **“Sorry, Master. I would dismiss it all, were it not for the conversation I had with Genji this afternoon. He said that the dragon was part of his soul and seemed quite surprised when he realized I really had seen it. I don’t understand what this means, how I am supposed to help him with this information.”**

Mondatta’s lips were pressed into a thin, hard, line, one foot still lightly tapping against the worn stone floor. He did not much like the idea of Zenyatta communing with the Iris in such a way before his time, but all of the answers he sought would be found there rather than here. Genji could offer an explanation, of course, but the man was sick and had clearly suffered greatly already. Talk of spectral dragons and metaphorical manifestations of the soul were a little heavy as subjects went.  
The older monk bent and picked up the tray and then handed it to Zenyatta, its still steaming contents making his student’s stomach growl, hungrily.

**“Go and give this to our guest, I just remembered there is something I must do before I join you.”  
** The younger of the two blinked, blandly staring back at the other - he didn’t believe a word of it, but he wasn’t about to question Mondatta if he didn’t wish to speak of what it was he had ‘just recalled.’ He nodded solemnly, not fully intending his sigh to be overheard. But rather than berate him, Mondatta began to retreat back the way he had come, pausing to hold up one hand, indicating Zenyatta should wait.

Hope sprung to the young monk’s mind, glittering and tempting…  
 **“And Zenyatta? We live simple lives with the bare minimum given to appearance, but we do not look like we have spent the best part of the day rolling around in the dirt.”** Mondatta’s smile and resulting shake of the head said it all.   
**“Launder your kasaya.”**

Zenyatta reentered the infirmary moments later, tray in arms, quietly, so as not to wake Genji suddenly, if he was still resting, and set it on the small table close to the bed. The warm broth looked better than it ever had, but he had forgone the afternoon meal to spend it keeping watch here.

**“Genji?”** , he nudged the cyborg’s flesh and blood shoulder, keeping the contact to a minimum. Genji had not reacted well to it in the past.  
 **“I brought you some things, you should eat.”**

* * *

Relief was flowing through Genji when Zenyatta recalled the orb from the cot, only wondering briefly how he was able to do this, but hope soon blossoming inside of him to be able to feel the soothing, healing energy of the little object once again. He didn’t particularly care about how it worked, those questions could wait for another time – for now, he simply wanted to feel less like he was dying of this infection.

Watching the monk move from the door towards the other end of the room through half-closed, glazed over eyes Genji’s throat moved eagerly when he heard the sound of water being poured. He was happy that Zenyatta had understood his pleading for water for what it was, instead of questioning him.

Sitting up slightly as the man approached him, he took the glass from him and eagerly began drinking the offered water. Even though his body seemed to shake all over he managed to not spill half of the content over himself and once he got the last drop out, he placed the glass carefully next to his bed. The room around him was spinning again by now and everything suddenly felt like it was very far away. With slow, sluggish movements Genji reached for the two blankets at the end of his cot, pulling them towards and over himself as he slowly laid down again, his back to Zenyatta. He wasn’t covered entirely by the fabric, but he simply did not have the strength to do anything about it, this would have to do now.  
Genji had imagined that Zenyatta had left by now so his voice startled him slightly in his state of half-sleep, fever-induced delirium. Moving his head slightly to try and turn towards the monk but failing, he did see the golden glow of the orb above him and a soft sigh slipped from his lips at the soothing feeling that instantly began washing over him.

Exhaustion finally overcame his body and mind and Genji slipped into a restless sleep, waking from time to time when his lungs felt too tight or a fit of coughs ripped him from sleep. The soothing presence of the orb a constant in the back of his mind, telling him that Zenyatta was still watching over him. Only briefly does Genji wonder about this fact, in one of his more wakeful moments before slipping back into unconsciousness.

The soft nudge of the orb settling in front of him, touching his hand that was not covered by the blanket, signalled Genji that Zenyatta was leaving, the soft sound of the door closing confirming it. He pulled his hand into the cocoon of blankets, settling the orb against his chest once more, feeling the warmth that radiated from it against him and with a sigh he closes his eyes, drifting off into the dreams the fever showed him - restless images of his dragon, the blood and his hallucination from the day before.

It felt like only seconds had passed when once again Genji felt a nudge against him, this time his shoulder, exposed to the room by the rudimental way he had pulled the blankets over his body. Even through his half-asleep, feverish mind, he registered the human touch he felt on his clammy skin, the soft warmth that sunk into his skin but was gone far too quickly.

Genji groaned softly when he heard Zenyatta’s voice, not because of the man himself, but for the fact that he was speaking to him and that meant he was supposed to listen and react. Turning on his back with slow movements the cyborg opened his eyes, looking directly at Zenyatta standing next to his cot. How much time had passed since they returned to the infirmary? For Genji, it both felt like it might as well have been days or just mere minutes – all feeling of time was lost in the fever dreams and brief moments of consciousness.

Blinking slowly, registering the words and their meaning he moved to sit up, pushing himself up with his arms and feeling the orb fall into his lap. Looking at it he couldn’t help a soft smile from spreading over his lips…he really could get used to the soothing feeling it provided even though the magic behind it was still a great mystery to him.

Reaching for the glass next to his cot he looked to where the jug of water still stood at the other side of the room, now joined by a tray with steaming food. He wasn’t feeling hungry and once again he did not feel very happy about the fact that he would most likely have to eat with someone else present.

**“Could you…I mean…?”** , Genji asked, moving the empty glass around in front of him before stretching his arm out in Zenyatta’s direction, a wordless plea for the man to refill his glass. Genji was finally over his pride, his body signalling him more than effectively that if he attempted to stand, he would make acquaintance with the ground again and he would rather stay on his cot right about now.

Once Zenyatta took the glass from him, Genji grabbed the blankets that had fallen down from his shoulders and pooled around his frame, to pull them back around himself, shivering slightly. He was beginning to feel quite disgusted by the way his skin felt and how his hair hung down into his face, in greasy skeins. With the fever raging through his system, his body tried to cool itself down by the only means possible – sweating. And since most of his body did not consist of human skin anymore, the parts that were still human seemed to be sweating even more. And with his journey before and the little care he had given his own body, he was about as dirty as he could possibly get.

* * *

**“Of course.”**  
Zenyatta took the glass from Genji, reaching back to where he had left the jug, refilling the glass forthwith. He was back to being a man of few words, not that Zenyatta had managed to get much out of him, after the outburst of before. In time, he knew, he would open up - time was the best healer, and for all his best efforts, it would be the only one that would tell the truth in the end.  
Glass full, he turned back and held it out to Genji, eyes sweeping over the food laid out on the tray. The others would be meeting for their evening meal soon, and he would either be forced to go without or see what was left as cold offerings later.

**“You should eat it while it’s hot. It will help with the fever.”** , he nodded to the bowl of steaming broth, the antioxidants in the leaves floating on its surface were known immune boosters; something traditionally given to the sick and feverish. He would not help himself when Genji needed it more than him.

He pretended not to notice as the man bundled himself up, tighter, into the blankets, bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the thick wool coverlet. The nights were harsh this time of year, even with the shutters to the infirmary closed and a fire burning in the nearby pit, it still left the extract open to the elements. Not exactly conducive of healing, but necessary to avoid death from carbon monoxide fumes.

He settled, uncomfortably, on the edge of the spare cot, half expecting Fon to barge in at any moment and demand he eat whatever had been brought to him. But something continued to bother him. Mondatta hadn’t seemed as though he needed to be attending to other matters when Zenyatta had bumped into him in the hall, in fact, he had seemed rather relaxed. It was only when he had explained his dreams to his master, that Mondatta’s aura had shifted in an all too telling way: He was lying.  
Well, not strictly lying, he _did_ have something to attend to, but this was no prior arrangement. He could have wanted Zenyatta to remain here to make sure Genji didn’t disappear on them, but if that were so he could have locked the infirmary door and been far safer in doing so. Genji wasn’t leaving, with or without Zenyatta here.  
 **“Well, it seems like I have been relieved of all my duties this afternoon, so…if you need anything, please let me know.”**  
He snorted a little, nose wrinkling as a little laugh emerged from him. **  
“Before someone assigns me library duty…”**

The library…that wasn’t such a bad idea. Monks far older than he, than Mondatta and even the most elderly of the omnics had begun to compile the research and theories in those halls. Records, dating back centuries lined their walls and in them had to be something to do with the answers he sought.  
 _But Genji…  
_ Zenyatta cast a concerned eye in his direction, watching as another shuddering fit of coughing wracked his ravaged body. He couldn’t accompany him, not in that state - his coughing would awaken half the students from their mediation. And in a library too. An amusing, but ultimately foolish, thought. What else would they be doing there but studying?

**“Did Mondatta speak with you about the plans for your stay?”,** the young monk inquired, figuring he had better get to know the man, it could indeed help with his research and when he had some definitive answers, he could return and present them to a far more rational mind.

**“I remember my first day.”  
** Zenyatta shook his head, gaze following the eddy and flow of the silently bobbing orb he was once again holding aloft with his thoughts.  
 **“I was a little older than the others, not as old as you are mind…not…that you are old, I was just saying that…well, you follow.”** No, he didn’t suppose Genji did, and his rambling had kind of been nonconsensual, the cyborg looked like he just wanted to sleep.

**“I…should be quiet, but…I suppose what I am trying to say is, I didn’t always think as I do now. Yet things can change, you won’t see it now, but in time, all things can change. Very little is impossible.”**  
A ridiculous statement to take at face value, but one he believed, he had come through plenty to be where he was now, and Genji’s earlier accusations had rocked his foundations a little. Had he become so consumed with his studies, with being a student worthy of Mondatta’s time, that he had lost sight of why he had decided to remain with the Shambali to begin with?

It wasn’t a thought he had given much time to before.  
 **“You were right, before, I don’t know you, I do not know the hardships you have faced in order to be here with us now, but none of us can sympathize or help if you cannot help yourself.”  
** It was the first step on any journey and he would have to show Mondatta that was possible before the older monk agreed to anything.

Unbeknownst to Zenyatta, Mondatta already had.

* * *

**„Thank you“** , Genji murmured as he took the refilled glass of water from Zenyatta, eagerly drinking from it to wet his dry lips and mouth. The smell of the food that had been brought in made Genji’s stomach both rumble and tense in a rather uncomfortable way. If his body had also caught a stomach bug then Genji would surely not have been able to keep in the breakfast as well as he had, right?

Concentrating on not breathing in too deeply to try and ignore the smell of food Genji instead fidgeted softly with the orb that lay in his lap. Just as he thought Zenyatta might have forgotten about it after he returned so quickly it began floating up into the air again, settling a little over Genji’s head. He moved his head to try and look at it a little closer but Genji’s got distracted by the laugh coming from the monk sitting across from him so he moved his attention back to him.

**“If it’s not too much trouble…”** , Genji started talking, his voice sounding hoarse and like his vocal cords have been attacked with sandpaper, prompting a fit of dry coughs that left him gagging on his empty stomach.  
 **“…some more blankets? I can’t seem to get warm…”** , Genji finished once his breathing calmed again. Taking another slow sip of the water as he tried, and failed, to soothe his sore throat.

The question about his talk with Mondatta confused Genji momentarily, the cyborg blinking slowly at the monk. Zenyatta had told Genji earlier about helping him get a room in the village faster if he accepted the monk’s help…so he clearly knew about the arrangements Mondatta had planned for him. And yet Genji recognized the attempt of Zenyatta for what it was…filling the silence between them that would have no doubt settled in once again, most likely more awkward than before with what had happened between the two of them earlier – Genji still did not know how much time had passed since then.

**“Once…I feel better I can choose between staying here or leaving. If I intend to stay Mondatta will make sure I will get a room for myself in the village”** , Genji replied in a neutral voice, surprised at his lack of annoyance of having to repeat something that the monk so clearly knew already. The cyborg wondered if the soothing of the orb was helping him keep a clear head – because even his troubled mind was the calmest now than it had ever been since he…left Blackwatch.

The next thing Genji did, as the monk continued their small conversation and yet this being the most words the two of them had spoken to each other than the argument earlier, was to _chuckle_. Zenyatta did not know how old he was and Genji knew with the amount of cybernetics and the scars in his face it might be difficult to guess as well. It was almost endearing how the monk stumbled over his own words where Genji would not have taken offence with what the man had said.

**“It is quite alright…I am 33 years old. Some may argue that I am old, but then again: what do they know?”** , Genji explained, once again surprised at his openness towards the man. But then his mind reminded him, that giving the man his age was without risk, there are far more important facts and information that he would not easily share with the man. Like the year his brother attempted, and almost entirely succeeded, to kill him.

Remembering all the times that Genji had tried to change, to accept what had happened to him when Zenyatta began telling him about his change with the monks, make Genji avert his gaze and the lingering smile on his lips fell away to be replaced by a thin, tight line, as the cyborg pressed them together. So many years have passed since he has become what he was now and yet nothing had changed, except for more and more advanced cybernetics and internal workings being built into his body to make him even more…efficient. And even that had been several years now since he has been on the road after abandoning Blackwatch.

His mood turning dark again with intrusive thoughts of all the time he spent roaming the earth flashed through his mind. All the time he had spent alone with his own thoughts, with the hatred of his new body inside his mind which made Genji turn against himself, against his body.

Looking up at Zenyatta when he finished talking Genji thought about the man’s words. Help himself? How was he supposed to do that when he has tried everything? All the therapy sessions back in Blackwatch had not helped him accept his new body, not while he was constantly sent out on missions that made quite clear what everyone expected of him – he was just a machine to kill. That was his purpose.

Shivering, and this time it was not from the coldness he felt inside but from the haunting memories inside his own head. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself with the now free hand, in which the orb had previously been, he curled into himself a little more. There was apparently only so much even the magical orb from Zenyatta could keep at bay, sudden flashes of past missions flickering across his inner eye.

Groaning Genji closed his eyes, trying to force the images from his mind but all he managed was seemingly getting his headache to pound a little harder behind his temples. Opening his eyes again they flicker over the still steaming bowl of food across the room and then to Zenyatta. If he had stayed with him all this time surely he had not eaten since before he started his task back at the storage as well!

**“Surely you must be hungry…”** , Genji spoke, ignoring Zenyatta’s last words, he did not want to think about those things now. His body and mind too weak to endure and categorize the many possibilities that could come from it. The only things Genji was sure of was that he did not deserve to be forgiven for any of the things that he had done before and that his soul has long since been lost.

His stomach was still tightly clenched together and even though he knew he needed to eat if he wanted a chance of defeating the infection, he did not feel particularly hungry.  
 **“Please…do eat. I-…I don’t need that much sustenance.”  
** _\- a lie –  
_ **“You need a warm meal, I’ve seen you look just now. Go ahead. Should you not finish it all I shall eat the rest…?”**

* * *

Blankets, right, he could retrieve those and on his way make a quick detour into the library, nobody need be any the wiser as long as he did not make his stay a long one. That was easier said and done when you knew what you were looking for and where to find it. Zenyatta had hunches, many of them, but where those tomes would be located could take anywhere between a few moments to a few hours to locate. And the area was not tended at this hour of the day.

**“I will find you some”** , he agreed, speaking nothing of his plan, as far as Genji was aware, his dream was just some silly imagining, and it would stay that way until he was sure beyond all doubt.  
 **“I will also see if I can find a heat generator, far safer than a fire.”  
** And with the man staggering around in an incoherent stupor, it was probably best too, they were usually reserved for the omnics who’s joints and inner mechanisms were slowed by the cold, yet Zenyatta surmised they would not miss one for now.

A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he listened as Genji repeated himself, wondering if the man truly had forgotten his similarly asked question, or he was just humouring him. Snickering slightly, the light dancing in his eyes, he looked across at the other, and not wishing to give him the impression he was making fun of him, Zenyatta dipped his head, waving a hand in silent apology.

**“I meant: have the two of you made plans for where to begin your study.”**  
A pause in which he’d hoped the other would break the awkward silence, the unnatural worrying of his lower lip between teeth that would wear it sore.  
 **“You do intend to learn from us, correct? Your soul seeks balance, of that I am aware, Mondatta too.”**  
Zenyatta eyed the broth again, it would get cold soon.  
 **“He’s very perceptive.”**

Yes - _too_ perceptive, which had made his sudden change of plans all the more suspicious. _Blankets_ , the monk reminded himself, all he had to do was go and fetch the blankets and he had his out for a little while. Some unseen force compelled him to stay, to listen, to talk. And part of him just wanted to see Genji actually eat something that stayed down, his own hunger be damned. This time, though, Genji was actually being more talkative, leaving him to wonder if their time spent at an impasse was finally at an end. There might always be a part of Zenyatta that couldn’t quite trust him, he was still a relative stranger to them, but perhaps in time…

**“I was not judging, I was not aware of how young or old you were, I didn’t want to presume.”  
** But his subconscious already had, who knew how long those cybernetics could sustain organic matter for, keep it in the state it had been in the moment it had been transferred to it? Was that the correct term, Zenyatta pondered - transferred, transplanted...connected?

Blinking out of his momentary reverie, he realized that, once again, he had been staring, expression blank and inert, caught out by the dark eyes that watched him from beneath the cowl of that rigid, permanent headband. Zenyatta averted his eyes immediately, feeling his cheeks begin to prickle and burn with the rising blush, capillaries filling to capacity and no amount of willing them to be cool would stop it.

Genji certainly was...interesting.

**“No…no, no, I am fine, this food is for you, I can get my own. Mondatta will be back soon, it wouldn’t look good if I was eating the patient’s food now, would it?”**  
An uneasy laugh, hand reaching to rub the burning column of his neck ever so slightly. Those soothing fingertips did little to massage away the blush that had risen so prominently. He really needed to get out of here.  
 **“You go ahead, you need it more than I do, I’ll grab something on my way back from fetching those blankets and the heat generator, I…should do that now, don’t want your infection getting worse because the people who built this place didn’t have the sick in mind.”**

And now you are rambling…

**“Wait there, I’ll be right back.”** He was already halfway to the door when he realized his mistake. A wince, as he turned around again, slow, precise, pointing the way to the still-hovering orb above Genji’s head. **“You might want to hold onto that now.”** That would be all he needed, vanishing beyond the door and hearing the loud clang of metal on metal when the orb dropped and cracked Genji in the skull.


	7. Chapter Seven

Genji watched Zenyatta blush and he briefly wondered what caused the man to feel this embarrassed. The most surprising thought to the cyborg though was that he found the monk quite…endearing with the blush colouring his cheeks. Shaking his head softly at the thought, Genji listened to Zenyatta ramble, nodding.

Not giving Genji the chance to reply to any of the words he had just said, the cyborg was left with watching Zenyatta walk over to the door. Reaching up to grasp the orb that has been hovering above him he felt it settle in his hand when Zenyatta let go of it.

 **“You do not need to hurry yourself…I am sure I will not drop dead in the next few hours…”** , Genji replied, keeping the cough that was threatening to emerge from his chest back until Zenyatta had closed the door behind him. Only when he was sure that the monk would be a few meters away did Genji curl forwards and let the cough consume him. It felt like his lungs were being ripped from his chest and with his throat feeling as dry as it did, and nothing actually being freed up by the painful coughs, he began gagging on the feeling inside his throat.  
Minutes passed in which Genji got to breath before another fit of coughs shook him. Finally, they got less and less, the man finally being able to breathe again without the fear of another fit. He felt the sweat run down his temples from the amount of strength his body had used to produce the coughing.

Looking at the ground in front of his cot, breathing heavily, he noticed that he must have dropped the glass during one of his fits, shards of it covering the stones. Clutching the orb closer to his chest he shivered as a slight draft blows through his room, making him pull his blankets tighter around himself.

Zenyatta’s question suddenly came ringing back inside his mind. Did he intend to stay and learn from the monks? And how could both Zenyatta and Mondatta know about his soul…  
His body shook from the sudden wave of coldness, the sweat cooling on his skin and the slight draft making him feel even colder.

Moving his eyes from the shards of glass to the bowl of food on the table across the room Genji let out a deep sigh. Even if he intended to eat the food, he doubted that he would get the bowl back to the cot with the content still in it. Zenyatta would not like it he came back to Genji not having eaten anything.  
And why did that motivate Genji to try to get the bowl and eat was a fact he would need to think about when he was not feeling like dying anymore.

Setting his feet on the ground he flinched when he heard the crunching of the glass under his cybernetics. Even if they could still feel the texture of the ground beneath his feet, there was no way he could still feel pain. And there shouldn’t be blood on the ground?! Moving his human hand around in his lap, trying to see if some shards had cut his flesh before but finding nothing Genji blinked slowly, confused as to where the drops of blood were coming from.

Just as another drop hit the stones with a soft _thud_ did, he realized that they were falling from his face…his mouth. Wiping over it with his human hand he left a bloody stain on the skin of his hand and across his cheek. If he had still been able to taste, he would have been able to taste the copper in his mouth from the blood he must have coughed up. Panicking slightly, he spit on the ground, needing to see how much blood there was and seeing the red pool beneath his feet he simply stared at it.

His vision was spinning slightly and it cost Genji a lot of strength to stay focused on the bloody shards of glass in front of him. Forcing himself to move his gaze to the tray of food once again. He needed to eat…

Placing Zenyatta’s orb next to him on the cot he slowly moved his body closer to the edge of the cot, his feet crunching over the glass beneath them. Trying to calm his breathing and the shaking of his limbs he closed his eyes, collecting the last of his strength.  
Pushing himself up from the cot with his cybernetic arm he tried to stand and for a moment his balance held him upright until his head began to feel rather dizzy and the world around him began to spin in fast circles around him once again. Staggering forward with small steps, his foot caught on the slightly raised edge of one of the stones and he fell forward. Hitting his knees on the ground and catching himself with his human hand he screamed when a sharp pain shot up his arm, the source being his palm.

Coming back to himself, he moved his head to look at his hand, moving it slightly and seeing the shard of glass stuck in the soft flesh of the inside of his hand. Cursing loudly, he watched fascinated as blood began to ooze from around the edges of the wound. Using his other arm to push himself up to sit back on his knees, Genji pulled the shard out of his palm with a loud hiss – not the smartest idea and if he had not been as feverish as he was he would have known to not pull the object out of a wound such as this.

Blood now flowing easily out of the open cut he watched it drip down his wrist and onto the ground for a few moments before pulling himself out of the daze he must have zoned out to.  
Standing up and walking was obviously out of the question, so maybe crawling the few meters over to the tray of food and the jug of water would work. A part of Genji’s sane mind hoped and prayed to all known gods that no one would come in right now to see the cyborg on his hands and knees, crawling over the ground, leaving bloody handprints on the ground, as the blanket slowly began slipping from his shoulders. His shivering was making it difficult, along with the pain in his palm, to keep steady on his arms but he slowly made his way over to the table with the tray.

Trying to sit down in front of it on the cold stones, making himself as comfortable as he could in the state he was in, he reached for the spoon in the bowl with his cybernetic hand, while he leaned closer to the bowl, so he might not lose too much of the content due to the way his hand was shaking. Taking a spoonful of warm broth inside his mouth and swallowing, enjoying the short moment of warmth that travelled through his body, he eagerly took a second and third, if only to feel the warmth once again.

Desperately trying to get even the last amount of the food onto the spoon he let it clatter onto the tray with a dry sob when he realized that the bowl was empty. His head was pounding with a headache still, his palm was bleeding slightly, by now having smeared blood over his own legs, the tray and the bowl and he was rapidly losing his grip on reality.

Just as he felt himself sway, Genji tried to grab the low table to steady himself but his body was already tipping backwards and as he fell to the ground with a loud thud, the tray and its contents clattering to the ground.

Staring at the ceiling of the room for a moment, thinking about how long it would be until someone would find him like this, his body shook with shivers again. Moving his head to the side he looked at the small fire happily dancing in the fireplace. He ached for the warmth of the flames and the last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was the bright flickering of the fire and the shadow of a shape inside of them, accompanied by the whisper inside his mind, the soft growl of a large beast.

* * *

Worry gnawed at the fringes of his mind as he padded through the monastery, light on his feet and stomach still growling. Zenyatta made a promise to himself that he would pick up some leftovers on his way back with the blankets, but first, he had to make a quick detour. Genji had said it was fine to leave him for a while, but the words of a sick and fever-stricken man weren’t much of a reassurance. Hours before he had been intent on dying on the mountainside.

Then he would have to make this quick.

Hurrying around the maze of twisting corridors and darting across open spaces, he moved as if he truly had something to hide - and maybe he did, none of them knew what they could be harbouring and Zenyatta had seen more than most. A quick stop at the monastery library could sort this out once and for all, and maybe help Genji in the process.

He turned the final corner, the one that would lead into the large, open, hall. It was drawing dark now, and the more scholarly among their number would be retreating into their own quarters for the night, the omnics to recharge and the humans to sleep before the call to meditation the following morning. Perfect timing for a little early evening reading. Rounding the nearest shelf, he began to eye the key that rested, mounted on a polished, wooden, plaque upon the wall, eyes skimming over the categories and their locations: Philosophy, The Iris, Spirituality, as many things were written in many different ways. An exasperated little huff passed his full lips, he had anticipated a search, but this was going to take even longer than he estimated.

Well, if he had to start somewhere…Zenyatta’s eyes zeroed in on one section in particular: Mythology. Perfect, because dragons didn’t just pop up in everyday life, he had certainly never seen one, in person or in the media. Media he definitely did _not_ consume on the off chance he was passing by the village cafe.  
A shuffle of robes and feet upon the floor gave Zenyatta cause enough to pause where he was, mid-stride, while he listened in for where the sound of the footsteps he could now hear, were coming from. Closer, closer, they came, their originator heading for the same exit he was still close to. It would not have mattered if it had been any other of their brothers and sisters, there would have been no incident, they could have passed like ships in the night. But that wasn’t just anyone who had turned the corner towards him, the man’s familiar cream and white hued robes offsetting his skin tone perfectly and that particular formation of jieba was unmistakable, even at a distance: Mondatta.

At first, Zenyatta debated hurling himself into the nearest aisle and hoping for the best, hoping his master paid little mind to the cacophony of tumbling scrolls and falling tomes that would accompany the inevitable collision. No, he was no safer in there, than he was out in the open like this. There was no avoiding it, all the younger monk could do was hope and pray to the Iris that Mondatta was feeling lenient in light of what he was about to make note of.

 **“Zenyatta.”** \- Such a sing-song tone!   
He had barely turned the corner and already spotted his student, almost as if he had expected the young man to be standing there all along.   
**“Have you come to find our guest something to read?”**

Zenyatta’s shoulders bunched, as tense as the internal grimace that tugged at all his sensibilities - Mondatta was wry, but he was only ever sarcastic when he knew his student was up to something.  
 **“I do not think we should bore him to death quite so soon”** , he quipped, jovial, but too stiff to be anything other than compensating for the lack of a truthful answer.

The older monk tutted, rearranging the pile of records he had tucked neatly under one arm.  
 **“I asked you to remain in the infirmary, I do not believe Genji is out of the woods yet by far. Such a lack of regard is not like you, my student.”**   
Records rearranged; his brows pulled into a furrowed frown as he brought his gaze back around.

 **“I’m sorry master, I was on my way to find Genji some more blankets and get some food when I - “  
** Mondatta raised a hand, signalling for quiet.  
 **“Your dream still troubles you.”  
** Zenyatta’s line of sight dropped to the floor, he need not say anything, Mondatta already knew it was true. No amount of reassurance and kind or disparaging words would change how he felt, it wasn’t just a dream, he could feel it too keenly, still picture the most minute of details upon the creatures scaley body.  
 **“It troubles me too.”**

The younger monk’s gaze snapped up, now meeting Mondatta’s measure for measure. So sudden and unexpected was it, that it was almost comical. Ah, so he could still surprise the little imp then?

 **“I had hoped that I could shoulder the burden for you, you are not yet ready to receive all of the Iris’ gifts, your mind could fracture, and yet it seems that it has granted you this insight regardless. I wished to find a solution for procuring a more comprehensive answer here.”  
** Reaching up, Mondatta’s fingertips kneaded, rhythmically, at his scalp a couple of times, tiredness and tension both starting to take their toll.  
 **“As did you, it seems.”  
** A nod, a smile…perhaps even the beginnings of an amused, relieved chuckle. Zenyatta now had false hope that Mondatta would have uncovered just that: The answer, the solution to their questions.

 **“And did you, find a means, I mean?”** The younger asked, on the cusp between elated and crestfallen - How could Mondatta have ever crushed his student’s hopes when he wore that face?  
 ** _“Possibly_** **, I believe that if the answer exists, it is in these tomes here. Some light evening reading, I was going to ask Fon to go over some of the texts with me, he is far quicker than you or I.”  
** Zenyatta’s expression had already started to shift, along with the widening crack in Mondatta’s heart.   
**“Leave these with me and go and fetch yourself some food. I will take the blankets to Genji.”**

Zenyatta continued to tarry in the entranceway, wavering back and forth on his heels. He had told Genji he would be back, and unsure as to why this would disappoint the man, should Mondatta return instead of himself, he decided that yes, he really had no reason at all to deny himself the food he craved. After that, he could check on Genji _and_ Mondatta.

 **“Thank you, Master”** , he bowed deeply, genuinely thankful, and they went their separate ways.  
It was a short while later that saw Mondatta standing outside the door to the infirmary, lifting the latch and letting himself in. To begin with, he was puzzled, the cot was empty, an oddly grizzly trail of blood spots and water spattered all over the floor in a trail that widened, became more intense as it led all the way up to -

**_“By the light of the Iris!”_ **

Blankets and books, both hit the floor with a muted thump, and the monk moved across the floor so quick he misplaced a sandal along the way, dropping into a crouch beside the bloodied man, a sharp and irritating pain spiked somewhere beneath his bare foot. Sucking the air between his teeth to bite back a budding curse, Mondatta reached down and plucked the offending item out from the ball of his foot; a piece of glass, small, but the floor was littered with tiny, glimmering shards.  
It was a not-so-small shard, that lay next to the clumsy cyborg.

His first thought was that Genji had done this to himself, but if that were so, he had gone about it a very odd way.

 **“What…how…why did you not call for someone?”**   
Oh Zenyatta could not know about this, he would be riddled with guilt and Mondatta had, for a moment, assumed rightly so, but given that his student had not exactly been sleeping, he could be excused his lack of dalliance.   
**“Genji, can you hold your arm up for me?”  
** The sound of tearing fabric cleansed the room of its silence, Mondatta had ripped clean through a long strip of cloth that comprised the upper part of his kasaya, folding it, neat, a couple of times before reaching up to the shelf to grab the half-empty jug of water. Dousing the wound in its contents, he went about flushing out the smaller, transparent, splinters that may have remained, chiding the man under his breath for trying to fly before he could walk. The cloth made a crude dressing, but it was absorbent enough to put pressure on the cut until he could fetch Fon and some decent proper dressings from their cache of supplies.

 **“This should hold, and you should not be out of bed unaccompanied. Where were you going?”** The concern was genuine, and he had yet to notice the now empty bowl and plate beside them.   
**“So like a Shimada…”** , he said, the name drop slipping from his mouth before he could prevent it, his own tired state getting the better of him. But what was out there could not be taken back, and if something resonated in Genji enough to fight his way out of here, Mondatta was in no peak state of awareness to prevent it.

* * *

Genji was roused from the delirious, fever dreams his mind had made up by the sound of a voice in the room that had been so quiet before. His body was feeling cold all over and the pain in both his hand, head and especially his lungs returned full force the more awake he got. Trying to move even slightly he immediately felt the hard stone beneath his back and for a moment he was confused as to why he was lying on the floor.

When the cyborg moved his head to the side the person whose voice had woken him was already kneeling beside him.  
 **“Zen-…yatta?”** , he asked, his voice dry and hoarse, just as the man by his side leaned back to do something behind him Genji couldn’t see. Only when the monk turned back around did Genji see that it was Mondatta, not the younger monk. His eyes did not want to open entirely, the tiredness pulling on his eyelids, begging him to go back to sleep. His gaze unfocused by the raging headache and the fever coursing through his system.

Everything felt like too much effort, too much strength he would need to put together to follow the monk’s simple order of lifting his arm and yet something inside him made him at least try. Feeling the warm hands of Mondatta against his skin made Genji sigh, almost in a form of pleasure, as the warmth sank into his skin and taking over the effort of holding his arm up. He was feeling so cold…the blanket he had thrown over his shoulder was lying beneath him and was only barely covering parts of his legs and stomach.

The sound of tearing fabric made Genji focus back on Mondatta crouching next to him and he watched in shock as the man ripped part of his beautiful kasaya off before wetting it and using it to clean and then bind the cut in his palm. Watching the man dress his wounds he listened to the monk’s voice beneath his heavy breathing, even though he couldn’t make out any of the words.  
Genji was about to reply to the man’s question of where he was going when he heard the almost chiding use of his last name. Tensing up where he was lying, his head and mind cleared from the fog that made thoughts so difficult. Grabbing Mondatta’s wrist with his now bound hand, the pressure on his wound causing a painful spark to travel up his arm. Trying to pull the man closer to him, Genji searched the man’s face for any hint of him knowing more than just his name.

 **“How do you know my name?!”** , he asked, his voice almost panicked. If Mondatta knew his last name that could mean he knew even more about him. And if that was the case how and why had the man still offered him a place at his monastery. If he knew anything of what had happened to Genji…was his brother or family involved in this? Too many thoughts were racing through Genji’s head and he couldn’t ask any of them…in case Mondatta did not know more than just his name. His mind could simply not muster up the strength to question Mondatta about his knowledge now.

 **“Food…I was eating…Zenyatta said…he said, that…that I should…I fell”** , Genji decided to answer Mondatta’s questions, trying to sort his thoughts while also trying to push out the words over the clattering of his teeth and the pain inside his body. A couple of rough coughs reminded the cyborg of the blood he had coughed up earlier, and he moved his cybernetic hand to his mouth, checking if there was any blood on his tongue now.

Not fully realizing that he was still holding Mondatta’s wrist he felt his fingers twitch around the warm skin of the man and as if he had been burned, he let go of it. The warmth had felt nice against his skin and for a moment Genji wondered what it might feel like to bury against Mondatta’s surprisingly broad and muscular chest, feeling the warmth of both his body and his arms around him. His mind quickly changed the image into Zenyatta holding him and Genji shook his head to try and clear these images from his head. The fever must have really gotten to him by now if he was so far gone that he was actually considering this cause of action to get warm…and feel something apart from pain again.

 **“I am…so…cold…”** , Genji whimpered, closing his eyes and letting his arm drop back to the side of his body, the skin feeling sticky from the amount of sweating he was doing and at the same time cold from lying on the cold ground for an unknown period of time. No matter how cold Genji was feeling the sweat kept pouring from his skin, the little amount of human skin that he still had trying to regulate his body temperature.

The cyborg realized that he had only once before in his life felt as miserable as he did now. His entire body hurt, and he couldn’t see a way which might ease his pain and aching body. Turning his head to the side in shame when he felt the first hot tears run down his temple, biting his lips softly to stop himself from sobbing. He had no control over his reaction, the fever making him even more delirious than the pain would.

 **“Please…help me. Please…”** , Genji whimpered, his voice barely more than a whisper, his begging only interrupted by his sniffling and the attempt to breathe through his clogged nostrils.

* * *

**“Sorry to disappoint you, but not nearly as spritely”  
** Mondatta’s quip was a dry one, marred by the sounds of exertion as he attempted to pull Genji into a more upright position. Laying flat would not do his lungs any good whatsoever.  
 **“We need to get you back into bed, but you are going to have to help me.”**

All that metalwork, while it might have been light and durable, but what it shielded was not light in the slightest, and he could have no more shouldered that load than he could have run a marathon with any number of their omnic brethren clinging to his ankles.  
But Genji, it seemed, was preoccupied with his little slip-up. Ah - Mondatta’s mind berated him again - so he had noticed? Somehow, he had hoped that the fever and the state of the cyborg’s injuries would have been distracting enough. Yet to hear one’s true name spoken after some time of none speaking it, had to be jarring...Almost as jarring as the hand now snagging hold of his wrist.

Mondatta’s calm and even gaze flitted back to the face of the man now essentially resting in his arms, and then along the bloodied column of that crimson dappled arm, to the bound hand, tendons tense and gripping - it had to be excruciatingly painful, he thought, the glass had cut quite deep.

 **“I understand you will have many questions and in time I intend to answer all of them, but for now your health and regulating that temperature is far more important.”  
** He gently slipped an arm around Genji’s back, bracing his own against the wall.  
 **“Now, that help if you please?”**

It took two attempts because apparently mechanical legs had a tendency to seize up like their organic counterparts, but once they were standing the hard work was over with. Mondatta tried his best not to sound like he was struggling with the heavy lifting, but there was a limit to which he would hide it and by the time Genji was, yet again, sat on the edge of the cot, he was not ashamed to rub his upper arms in lactic-acid-borne sympathy.  
In turning away from the cot for a second, he almost stepped on another of the errant shards scattered everywhere, deftly hopping around the shatter spot to recover his discarded sandal. From there he could finally get a good look at the room and its murder-style redecoration - He wouldn’t disturb Fon from his duties to tend to this, he would see to it himself…it would give him time to answer all the questions Genji now appeared to be terrified of.

What was he running from, what was he hiding? Because the true extent of Mondatta’s knowledge, as it stood, was not exactly damning. Of course, Genji - one Genji _Shimada_ \- didn’t know that. That name had little meaning to a humble monk unless he had cared to look into the world news crime debrief, of course.

Turning back around, Mondatta ferried over the blankets Zenyatta had been intent on returning with, and partially unfolded one, draping it over the other man’s shoulders, plucking at the corners until they were held out for Genji’s hands to grasp and pull the woollen fabric around himself. The next blanket was placed over his legs, although Mondatta had to confess, he did not know if any flesh and bone lay beneath their rather slick casing, the knee joints themselves looked entirely mechanical, but it was rude to stare.  
There was an uncomfortable tension that Genji carried with him, the manner in which he moved would shift subtly when one was watching him – self-consciousness was a bad habit he had tried to rid himself of years ago, yet Mondatta knew that many who came here were plagued by it, even Zenyatta for a while. _True self is without form_. Those words, like a mantra, had helped his student immensely.

Tucking the blanket around those mechanized legs sent something clunking to the floor, and when he reached and snatched up the offending object, he instantly recognized the weight in his hand - one of Zenyatta’s orbs. Careless and thoughtful all at once, he would need to speak to his student about taking better care of these. One full set was meant to last a lifetime.

 **“Are you feeling any warmer?”** , he asked casting a worried eye over the injured hand the man now held clutched behind the blanket barrier.   
**“Your hand, we will need to get that looked at. Do not fear, many of the omnics here were once from medical backgrounds, we are more than capable of dealing with a plethora of small injuries….”  
** Mondatta appeared to double-take.  
 **“That is not, of course, an excuse for jumping through hoops just to please my student, particularly if it results in this.”**

He began to deal with the mess using the rest of his ruined shoulder portion of his kasaya to mop up some of the blood splatters. How one man could create such a state when all he had intended to do was eat some dinner, was beyond him. But that man had questions and no amount of stalling would get them answered or make Genji any less anxious. Perhaps that was healthier than to give him the truth? It was only fair.

 **“You wished to know how I guessed your name? That’s right, my friend, _guessed_ , I had no way of knowing my assumption was correct, but it does indeed solve a little of the mystery surrounding you.”**   
The monk chuckled, soft and warm, his manner relaxed, there was no point in worrying Genji unnecessarily.

 **“Zenyatta had a dream last night, did he inform you? He said he dreamed of a brilliant green dragon stranded upon an island, injured, in pain, it called to him.”  
** It was probably wise to negate the lake of blood, the face Zenyatta had described in the water, the scene of what looked like a slaughter.   
**“I would not have thought anything of it were it not for the cry that awoke me from my sleep last night. A roaring cry like nothing this mountainside has ever heard the very same night that you arrived and I, _Young Lord Shimada_ , do not believe in coincidences.”**

Padding quietly across the floor, he stooped to pick up one of the fallen tomes, and settled on the opposite cot, thumbing carefully through the thick pages.  
 **“These are the records of Shambali far before my time, and of those who passed through this monastery seeking enlightenment, some leave their mark, others go on their way, but those who stay often imbue us with their knowledge of the world outside these four walls.”** , he said, not looking up from the pages as he turned them, slow, deliberate, one paper after the other.

 **“Zenyatta’s dream troubles him, I set out to reassure him and in doing so I came across the most curious thing: Spirit dragons.”  
** Index finger over the page in question, he gently pap-papped it against the title, turning the large, heavy book around for Genji to look at, if he wished.  
 **“This seems to suggest such things are not pure fantasy, but a unique trait inherited by the members of a single combined bloodline: The Shimada’s.”**

If this was starting to sound like a confrontation, Mondatta did not wish it to be so, he gently set the book down on the edge of Genji’s cot, leaning back on his own. The room felt a little warmer now, even if he was only half-dressed, himself.  
 **“I had intended to come here to see if you would volunteer the information, but I see, now, that it troubles you also. You need not fear anything spoken to us within these walls, Genji. But I would ask, that if there is any danger to us, that you volunteer this information forthwith.”**

* * *

Genji tried to help Mondatta with his body as best as he could, knowing that his ‘new’ body was a lot heavier than a normal human one would ever be. Trying to pull himself up without putting too much of his weight onto the older monk, he gripped the man’s arm tightly, the pain in his palm anchoring him into the moment.

The cyborg held Mondatta’s gaze briefly, accepting the word of the man that his questions would be answered at a later point. He tensed briefly when he felt the man’s arm around his back, the touch too unfamiliar and way too much for his comfort. The warmth radiating off the man he was now essentially leaned against soothed Genji slightly, though his worry about somehow tainting the man was raging inside his mind. He had already made the monk rip apart his beautiful kasaya…

Genji forced his legs into carrying the full extent of his weight when he was finally in an upright position again, trying to keep as much of it from Mondatta and trying to minimize the contact his own body would have with the man.  
Once seated on his cot again Genji did his best to calm his harsh breathing – even that short walk and the exhaustion from getting up had made him go out of breath and he could already feel his lungs burning with the threat of yet another coughing fit. Trying to distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling that began bubbling up inside of himself, Genji watched Mondatta walk around the room, retrieving his sandal.

His mind was racing, thoughts and the fear of having been found out by the monk were circling inside his head, making his body tense up. Averting his eyes from Mondatta as soon as the man turned around towards him with the blankets Genji looked at the mess he made on the floor…  
Flinching slightly when he suddenly felt the weight of a blanket around his shoulders he looked up at Mondatta briefly, quickly taking the offered ends of the blanket and pulling them tightly around himself as he watched Mondatta lay a second blanket around his legs.

The sound of the orb rolling off the cot made Genji jump and his injured hand reached out to take the now depleted orb from Mondatta, pulling it back against his chest and into the cocoon of warmth created by the blanket. He didn’t know why he felt the need to hold it so closely still when the soothing feeling would not wash over him anymore…but it was _something_ to hold on to when the rest of his reality seemed to be falling apart. Too many questions were standing in the room with too little answers given.

 **“I am a little, yes”** , Genji answered the question about his state of warmth. His body felt like it was getting too hot under the thick blankets and yet his muscles shivered or were they spasming from the over exhaustion and him pushing it too far? But he would not begin to complain about his state when Mondatta was being so good to him. He had no right to keep making the monk do things for him just because he was still feeling unwell.

Watching Mondatta rip his kasaya apart even further made the lump inside Genji sit even heavier. He was the reason the monk was forced to rip apart his beautiful attire. His words made Genji feel uneasy…did Mondatta think he had simply acted with the thought of pleasing Zenyatta in mind? He had managed to eat the entire bowl after all. He had simply not intended his accident and passing out afterwards.

 **“I-…I am sure it’s just a small cut that will heal over time…and I…wanted to eat. I was hungry. Z-Zenyatta said it would help”** , Genji explained, trying to keep the blame of this situation away from Zenyatta. The younger monk was not at fault here. Genji had known how weak he was and had sent Zenyatta away because he knew the man was hungry as well.  
 **“I told him…that I was fine. That he could leave. It’s not his fault…”**

Genji had relaxed slightly while he watched Mondatta clean the mess he had made but as soon as the monk spoke again his body tensed once again. He had _guessed_?! Was this all some sort of game for the monk? Was this what was happening to Genji, was he in the middle of some sick mind game of the monks just because his fever did not allow him to think clearly? He ignored the question about Zenyatta talking to him about his dream, yes he had told him about it but why was this relevant for Mondatta?

 **“Do. _NOT_. call me THAT!”**, Genji roared when Mondatta used his old ‘title’ to address him. His breath coming in short, angry puffs, his lungs burning with the infection and the anger inside of him. Was he mocking him now? If he knew about his name and his title, then he also knew about the fate that had come to Genji and it felt like a punch to the face hearing it after so many years. The cyborg was shaking now but for a completely different reason than before…the anger about the careless use of his name steadily building inside of him.

The feeling continued growing inside when the monk simply sat down across from him without a care in the world and began thumbing through the pages of a thick tome, entirely ignoring Genji for all it seemed, casually telling him about the records of the Shambali found inside these walls.

Genji felt more and more like he was being pushed into a corner by the older monk. A corner he did not see any way of escape from. And a cornered animal only had one thing on its mind…  
He could not deny his family’s name now after he had so eagerly reacted to the bait and in turn making Mondatta’s guess a correct one. How much did the Shambali monks know about the concept of Spirit Dragons, if they already knew that they were a unique trait of his family? Unconsciously Genji began rubbing his human hand over the upper part of his cybernetic arm, the orb he had been holding now lying in his lap. His right arm which had once been inked with the picture of a jade dragon…

The loss of his arm had been the first break between himself and his dragon but losing so much more of himself, of his soul, had resulted in the final cut that had happened. The sharp pain of it suddenly rushed through his body as if something was brushing over the severed end of the connection…the ripped edges of his soul that were missing a piece that had once made him complete. His dragon…The memories of that dream were assaulting him now, making Genji curl up around himself. That short moment in which he had been able to feel his dragon before it had been ripped from him once again playing over and over again inside his mind.

He barely registered Mondatta’s words, his mind clouded with memories of the way he used to be, with his soul still intact. Until they were washed away and only an empty feeling remained inside of himself.

 **“You have nothing to fear…There is no danger to you, or anyone here from… _my_ dragon”**, Genji began to explain, his anger quickly vanished and replaced by only the empty feeling of utter defeat. A familiar feeling that washed over his entire being, making him oh so tired…If he could only sleep and never wake up. To never face these issues again, how easy that would be.  
Taking in a deep breath, he held it inside his lungs for as long as the pain let him before letting it out slowly, the air whistling slightly between his lips. A sound of utter defeat, emanating from the bone-deep exhaustion Genji was feeling.  
 **“The dragon is no longer with me. If you know…who I am, then you know of my fate…”** , Genji spoke, looking at Mondatta with an open expression, the pain clearly visible in his eyes. For some reason Genji let the last remains of his mask fall from his face then. A mask he wore even when the literal one had been removed from his face. He couldn’t explain why he felt the way he did with Mondatta present or what made him brave enough to let even this last protective barrier fall from him. Though Genji thought that it had less to do with bravery and more with the fact that he did not see a different way out of this…what was there to lose?

 **“The night I died… he was ripped from me…”** , Genji whispered, the words sounding heavy between them, laced with all the emotions currently assaulting him: sudden flashes of that fateful night inside his mind, his brother’s face in front of him as he raised his sword one last time for the final blow against his own younger brother.

Genji did not notice how silent tears began to find their way down his cheeks, the memory playing in front of him like he was in that exact moment once again, watching his brother strike him down and feeling his body hit the ground as if he was right there. His eyes glazed over as he relived the memory in his mind, watching his brother retreat from his dying body…not even looking back as he laid in a pool of his own blood, choking on it and feeling both his own life and his dragon’s slowly leave him.

Once again, the anger boiled up inside of him as he blinked slowly, focusing back on Mondatta. Clenching his human hand tightly around his right arm, feeling the searing pain in it, he hissed but didn’t stop.  
Hot, scolding fury finding its way inside his veins and pumping through his body. His brother had _betrayed_ him, his own brother had _killed_ him in favour of the corrupt men holding on to the strings behind their family.  
But he had made them pay. Every single one of them. He had hunted them all down, made them suffer for what they did – killing every single one of them had not brought Genji back the life he used to have. But he had given each one of them a more horrible fate than Genji had to live through. There had been no mercy for these men. Now Genji’s hands and body were forever painted with the blood shed during these murders…he had been a machine made for killing before – this had made him the monster that he was now.

* * *

Genji’s vitriol had Mondatta sitting up a little straighter, bright, alert. But most curious of all was the manner in which he casually tilted his head to one side and raised one perfect eyebrow. Had Zenyatta been here, he might have cracked a smile, Mondatta was rebound for being the unflappable one, the immovable Shambali leader, so poised and composed it would take far greater than one angry, self-denying, man to crack his resolve.

He calmly set the book aside, interlaced his fingers and gently rested his chin against the backs of them.  
 **“You could have simply asked me not to. But very well, if that is what you prefer, Genji.”**

Someone had some deeply ingrained issues he was working through, and it seemed unlikely that he was going to volunteer the whole story to him. This was fine, Mondatta would never have pushed him to inform, but his concerns for the wellbeing of those who lived here was of strict importance. Lucky for him, and indeed the rest of them, Genji was only too happy to reassure him.

 **“I am relieved to hear that.”** , Mondatta intoned, **“And I am sorry to say that all I know about your family is myth and legend. I have travelled to many places and seen many wondrous things, but Japan has not yet come up on my itinerary.”  
** A pity, he would have liked the chance to see it sometime, there was much he was needed for here for the time being and the world’s media would have to wait.

But Genji spoke of his fate, and the uncomfortable way he shifted and shuffled in those blankets, stricken by fever and coated in a thin sheen of sweat, made even Mondatta feel uncomfortable in sympathy. Every so often he would catch a faint glimpse of the scars and divots that littered the cyborg’s skin, thick streaks of glossy pink that were offset by the pallid surrounding skin. What drove a man to seek to continue after losing so much, was nothing but pure strength, a strength that had carried Genji this far, but was fading with every passing day. They needed to help him refind that strength, nurture it so that it might grow far beyond the boundaries it had reached before, beyond the discordant limits it clung to dearly.   
Genji needed balance.

 **“That night a part of you was silenced, but you need not remain that way.”  
** How this was tied to the dragon, he could not be sure, but not lost on Mondatta, was the way in which Genji began to absently inspect and touch his one, mechanical, arm.  
 **“You are still Genji, your soul survives yet…And if your dragon has been glimpsed by another, heard by many, perhaps it is possible they did also?”  
** Was that such a stretch?

Turning the orb over and over in his hands, the monk muddled through his myriad thoughts. He didn’t think it was impossible now, not now that he understood at least part of Genji’s situation. The separation must have been sudden, violent, and had left more than just its mark upon his person.

He leaned forth, offering the golden sphere out to the other. Zenyatta would need to retrieve it later, and Mondatta wished to give his student an excuse to be here. It would seem less like constant surveillance than it would a casual visit.  
 **“I have imbued it for a while, that should take care of the fever.”**

The astounding thing about that was that he had not so much as twitched a muscle in such a way that would suggest he had been doing anything else, much less recharging the orb as Zenyatta would.  
He chuckled at what he supposed was Genji’s surprise, eyes bright with amusement.

 **“A part of your family or not. All is not lost where there is still life, Genji. Part of you knows this to be true…or you would never have sought us out.”  
** One hand reached back to pat the book again.  
 **“I will leave it up to you if you wish to discuss this with my student. He is a good listener and he may surprise you.”** That same hand scooped up the book into the crook of his opposite arm.   
**“He certainly has _me.”_**

If he had a penny for every time Zenyatta had done something that he should not have been able to do, he would have enough to refurbish the entire monastery. And so keen too, far from the slip of a lad that had arrived at their door all that time ago. Shy, reluctant, he had slowly taken to life here under the guidance of them all. And not even that terrible incident had stopped him.

Mondatta chastised himself, silently, it still pained him to think of that time, the state Zenyatta had been found in. The boy had not spoken for weeks pending his recovery, not more than a handful of noncommittal words and sounds. His sleep had been fitful, and the days spend lapsing in and out of a stupor driven unconsciousness, barely focusing long enough to realize he had company. Those who had placed him where he had been had paid dearly, but not at his or his brother’s hands.

Snapping out of it, he blinked a few times to clear his vision.  
 **“I will let you rest now, but I shall send Fon to see to that wound properly. He’s far better with a needle than I care to consider.”  
** Mondatta stood, rising with all the grace afforded to one of his stature.  
 **“Unless you require anything else, I believe I have a Kasaya to find and devotions to attend.”**

Genji needed time to process it all, that much was apparent, but his anxiety and the wild look in his eyes when Mondatta had mentioned his family name meant something….  
 **“Nobody outside of this room is aware of what I discovered, and that is the way it will stay. The choice to reveal that is yours alone.”**. he said, nodding soundly to accent the point.  
 **“And do try to call next time you feel like taking a trip.”**

*****

Fon arrived barely a few minutes after Mondatta had departed, everything he required to cleanse and seal the wound in his arms. When he noticed the hastily cleaned mess upon the floor, however, he stood stock-still, optics flickering. Had he human eyes, he might have rolled them.

 **“My nice clean floor!”**   
A tut soon followed, he would need to take a mop and a broom to the last of it - to his credit, Mondatta had done a decent job with what he had, the remainder of which was binding Genji’s hand.  
Ah yes, Genji. His head tilted in the man’s direction with an audible whir.

 **“Mondatta informed me that you believe your wound is nothing, but I beg to differ. May I take a look?”** , he queried, setting his things down on the other cot.   
**“He also informed me that Zenyatta had a fall today, yet he has not been to see me yet. I shall have to rectify that as well.”**

Zenyatta would simply _love_ him for it, too, with all the joy of a child that was being hen-pecked by their mother. It was of little surprise that the young man avoided him wherever possible, he longed to stretch his legs from the moment he could walk…and then long after he had relearned.  
The omnic’s optics caught sight of the orb and an inner smile warmed his circuits. At least he had raised him right.

**“I will make this brief, I heard you went for a walk today, you must be exhausted.”**

* * *

Genji pulled himself back into the current moment when Mondatta spoke up about his silenced connection to his dragon. Anger boiled up inside of him once again. How could this man say anything about how things might become with...this. With a part of his soul having been ripped from him. Squeezing his arm even tighter, his knuckles turned white and the wound on the palm of his hand began to sting. With how he pushed it against the metal, Genji did not see the blood that was slowly oozing into the fabric of the torn kasaya.

Breathing in deeply and letting the air out slowly, trying not to agitate his lungs too much he moved his free hand to his face, wiping away the tears and rubbing at his eyes. He felt so tired again…tired not just from what had happened this day but tired of life. He never wished for this conversation to happen so soon…or ever.  
His anger faded from him and made space for the cold emptiness inside and Genji quickly pulled the blanket tighter around his body, shivering once again.

 **“The dragon…was a part of my soul”** , Genji explained in a weak voice, his body swaying as he tried his best to concentrate on Mondatta sitting across from him. Watching the man move the orb around in his hand was mesmerizing and he found himself being lulled in by the movement for a moment before he could shake himself from it.

 **“I have not felt complete since…”** , he whispered, memories of his murder and the painful days of recovery flashing through his mind.  
 _\- I have not felt human since then… -_

The weeks he had spent in either a hospital bed or in any sort of machines until his body had been rebuilt had been more painful than the wounds his brother had afflicted his body with. Watching doctors work on his body, having to see how more and more of it was turned into a machine…Genji shivered just from the memories and it took all his strength to force himself away from the dark place his mind was wandering off to and concentrate back on Mondatta.

The cyborg flinched slightly when Mondatta suddenly leaned forward, his heartbeat picking up and his breath hitching in the back of his throat, making him cough. Once he forced himself to calm down, he reached for the orb with his wounded hand, feeling the familiar warmth radiate from it.   
When did Mondatta do that? Surprise written over his features Genji quickly settled the orb back in his lab. As familiar as the warmth had been that the metal was radiating, something was different to it now. Could it be that it depended on who ‘charged’ it?

His thoughts wandered off again and his eyelids slowly dropped close, the cyborg shook his head to clear away the exhaustion and tiredness, focusing back on the monk. But he was too tired for this conversation, too tired of living through the nightmare that his life had become to talk about it now…with someone who was still nothing more than a stranger, someone he barely even knew a day.

 **“I-…I came here as a last chance for myself…I accepted death the moment I set out to find you. But you have saved me…now I do not know what I should do”** , Genji replied with as much honesty as he could muster. Yes, he had come here for a reason but what exactly had that reason been? To prove a point to himself that he could reach this monastery that he heard so much about? He had not believed a single wondrous story he had heard…but now? Seeing the wonders that the monks were able to perform, the weird orbs Zenyatta could control and whatever this _Iris_ was?

Genji watched Mondatta get up from the cot across from him, his tired eyes following the smooth movement of the man until he had to crane his neck to look up into his face, his gaze falling to the exposed chest and torn apart kasaya briefly, before flickering back down to the ground. Even though Mondatta had sacrificed his kasaya to wipe the floor with, Genji was still able to see faint outlines of the blood he had spilt on the ground.

 **“I will be fine now…I think”** , Genji said as he moved the blankets slightly to signal that he meant those since he had asked Zenyatta before to bring them to him. He was still feeling cold, but the cyborg realized the coldness was not only coming from the fever but from inside him as well. No blankets or fire could ever melt the ice inside his soul.

 **“Thank you”** , Genji whispered as Mondatta had already reached the door. He was grateful that the monk would keep to himself about this and that Genji could decide for himself if and when he would talk to Zenyatta about this. The cyborg mused that the younger monk might have even more questions about him than Mondatta since he was the one who had apparently seen his dragon…shared his nightmarish vision with Genji.

After Mondatta had closed the door quietly behind himself, Genji took the orb into his cybernetic arm, letting his human hand rest beside it. The entire limb seemed to be throbbing in the rhythm of his heartbeat, the pain a constant reminder of the deep cut he had gotten. Staring blankly at the now empty cot across from him he thought about all the things Mondatta had said to him.  
Looking up slowly to see the omnic enter his room Genji blinked a few times and moved to rub at his eyes, the crying and general lack of sleep was making them itch and hurt – the cybernetics and implants not liking the way he was treating them.

Genji hid himself under the blankets a little more when he heard Fon’s first words after entering. Would he be scolded now? For his attempt to eat as he had been told to?   
When nothing followed the first outrage, he relaxed slightly…until the omnic settled the things he had been carrying down on the second cot. Genji’s first instinct was to pull his human hand closer towards his body, hiding it away from Fon even though he knew very well that the wound was bad since by now the fabric was tinted red in parts, meaning that the bleeding was only slowly stopping.

The attempt of small talk surprised Genji at first, his exhausted and feverish brain only slowly processing the spoken words and with Fon being an omnic Genji had a hard time reading his body language.  
 **“I am sure it is nothing, just a cut…”** , Genji tried to defend himself but he reluctantly stretched out his arm so the omnic could take a look at it. Seeing it out in the open made Genji swallow heavily, the fabric was soaked in a little more than he had expected, and the pain was growing worse.

 **“…helped Zenyatta”** , Genji murmured, his eyes dropping closed before he could shake himself awake again. He knew he had intended this to come out in a complete sentence but once again the rest of it had gotten lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth. He was proving the words of the omnic right. He was more than exhausted…he was ready to pass out and be done with this… _all_ of this.

* * *

**“Even the tiniest of cuts can become infected”** , Fon chided gently, beckoning the other man’s hand forward with the come-hither crook of his fingers.   
**“I promise you all my medical files are very much intact, you will barely feel a thing.”**

It wasn’t lip service either, fluff to assuage Genji into doing something that would hurt. There might be a slight sting, but once the anaesthetic took effect, there would be no pain at all, Genji wouldn’t lose consciousness unless it was due to the fever. It was, however, regrettable it had to be done while the man was in such a dire condition. His chat with Mondatta, whatever that had concerned, seemed to have sent the poor creature scuttling back into his metaphorical shell. Idly he wondered what had been discussed, but it was none of his business unless either party chose to confide in him.

**“I should also thank you for helping Zenyatta with his tasks. He looked so crestfallen when Mondatta told him what he wished him to do, now I see it wasn’t without its purpose.”**

The omnic tittered melodically, this was all shades of amusing. Mondatta had a knack for bringing people together and for getting to the core of the issue. Although Fon had to admit, it was interesting that Zenyatta, in particular, had spoken so little about their mysterious new guest. Both he and the Shambali leader were being rather clandestine about their activities of late, and Zenyatta hadn’t set foot in the sanctum for 48 hours now.

He should not interfere, he had been Zenyatta’s guardian throughout his early years and still took the role rather seriously in the more recent. Zenyatta was still very much like a son to him, much to the chagrin of the young man himself. Fon needed to trust that he had raised Zenyatta with enough values and morals to see him through - he would speak when the time was right.

**“Your hand, if you please? The sooner I complete this the sooner you can go back to your much-needed rest…and the sooner I can see to this floor.”**

*****

Mondatta passed by Zenyatta’s room a short while later. His student had opted to bring his food back here to eat alone - an old introverted habit he had adopted not long after his arrival, after the…incident. The soft, warm, glow of the lamp within flickered and danced across the room’s intricate woodwork, the stone floor worn smooth by years of footfall, shining in the iridescent light.  
Softly, he knocked upon the wooden jamb, expecting to hear Zenyatta’s familiar voice granting him permission to enter, but it did not come.

 _Curious_.  
Once more his knuckles rapped against the gnarled wood, once…twice…Nothing.

 **“Zenyatta?”  
** No word from within, nothing but the sound of someone stirring from their sleep, the gentle rustle of cloth and the creaking of the ageing wooden sleeping pallet.

Peeling back the large, heavy rug that hung in front of the door, he certainly found his student. Passed out, deep in a much-needed slumber, one arm and leg hanging off the edge of the bedroll as if he had just collapsed there, face down in the blankets.

The draft wafting in from the coolness of the hall outside roused the sleeping man enough for him to roll onto the bunk fully. A smile of amusement spread across Mondatta’s lips, he had come to allay his student’s fears, Genji would not be a problem in the ways that they had been concerned, he was genuine and as such, could be afforded a slightly larger portion of trust. But it seemed fatigue and all that worry had done a number on the poor man, who was now lapsing back into his sleep like a lazy cat, stretching its limbs, languid and long, only to yawn and go straight back to sleep.

 **“I suppose it can wait”** , Mondatta murmured. He was well within his rights to wake his student, but that would have been particularly unkind. Hopefully, the Iris would let him be for a while. There was still that small matter to discuss, but it would wait until much, much later.

*****

Zenyatta was early to rise the next morning, the night had passed without further incident, the night before seemed like a distant, horrible memory. Mondatta, contrary to what he had said, had not come to wake him after he had passed out here, exhausted and confused, but the odd positioning of the room’s door hanging suggested he had passed by - as did the lack of empty bowl and drinks cup.

He pulled himself out of bed, reaching across to grab his crumpled kasaya, wrapping it deftly around his body, the ties securing it in place while he flung the shoulder portion over one such shoulder. Pulling it around the front middle, a neat tuck and thread and he was ready to go. A brief moment was spared to check his cybernetic feet for any maintenance required, finding them a little scuffed but nonetheless in good condition.  
Glancing out of the window, he could see the sun was still rising, his brothers would be awake soon, meeting in the sanctum for their morning meditation. Zenyatta would have liked to join them, but there was still something he had yet to do as promised: Check on Genji.

His feet propelled him forth briskly and soon he was traversing the monastery halls as quickly and quietly as a mouse, slipping in and out of antechambers and halls to finally reach the narrow corridor that leads to the infirmary. Turning the handle, he let himself into the room beyond, noting the obvious scent of disinfectant in the air, tickling at his olfactory. Genji was still resting, the subtle hum of cybernetics mixed with the gentle rise and fall of his chest suggested his rest was, at least in part, just that: Restful.

 **“Genji?”** Zenyatta called softly, waiting for the man to stir before he said anything more. **“I’m sorry I didn’t return last night; I ran into Master Mondatta and…well he found other things for me to do.”  
** He had the blankets though, that was a start.  
 **“Did you sleep well? I came to ask if you would like me to fetch you some breakfast. You are welcome to join us if you feel well enough.”**

* * *

Genji nodded towards Fon when he mentioned the shared activity of this morning – helping Zenyatta catalogue the storage. Though he scrunched his face together slightly when the omnic mentioned the purpose of Zenyatta’s reassigned task. Had Mondatta actually set the two of them up on this to get them to do what exactly? Talk? Or had it been a test for Genji to see how he would act?

Finally reaching out his hand fully towards the omnic, Genji watched Fon take off the makeshift bandage of Mondatta’s kasaya. Hissing when the fabric pulled at the deep cut in his palm Genji winced, watching the cut begin to bleed slightly again.

The cyborg continued to watch in silence as the omnic moved the fabric to the side and immediately dropped it next to one of the trays he had brought with him, as far away as possible from the clean pieces of bandages. Opening a small flask Fon poured some of the content into the low bowl and began soaking one of the clothes in it before he reached for a second flask and a piece of cloth. Turning Genji’s hand around so the back of it was laying in Fon’s palm wrapped with the clothes before he uncaps the flask and pours the content slowly over the cut.

Groaning loudly when the sting of the water registered in his brain Genji could barely stop himself from pulling his hand away, a single massive twitch going through his arm. Using the edges of the cloth that stayed dry the omnic carefully dabs the skin around the wound. If Fon was saying anything to him Genji wasn’t hearing it, his gaze was focused on the wound and the busy hands of the omnic as his fever-stricken brain tried to keep him awake.  
The next thing Genji noticed was Fon moving the soaked cloth from before to his hand, laying it over the cut briefly before squeezing it slightly. The pain and sting of before intensifying and a sudden burst of adrenaline shot through his body, making Genji feel hot all over, his skin beginning to sweat even more. Only the hold around his wrist kept Genji from pulling away his hand this time and the groan that slips from his lips sounded more like the low, pained whine of a hurt animal.

His eyes dropping closed from the exhaustion and the pain currently filtering through his brain he could feel himself drop forward before he was able to catch himself and sit up straight again.  
Watching Fon remove the wet cloth from the wound he put it to the piece of fabric from Mondatta’s kasaya. Letting go of Genji’s hand he turned towards the tray next to himself on the cot, threading a medical needle and swiping it, including the thread, through the disinfectant.

Turning back towards Genji he reached for his hand putting it down into his metallic palm again. The cyborg watched in morbid fascination as Fon slowly sewed the edges of the cut together. Every time the needle pierced his skin Genji felt the urge to pull away or close it into a fist. But the gentle touch of the omnic soothing his muscles with gentle strokes was enough so Fon could continue his work.  
After quick yet precise work Fon cut the thread, knots it and moved the utensils to the tray, reaching for the clean bandages and wrapping Genji’s hand up in them so the wound would stay clean.

Only when Fon gives the okay for Genji to move his hand back towards himself did he realize just how harshly he had gripped the golden orb inside his cybernetic hand. Releasing the tight hold on it he swayed in his position on the cot, watching Fon finish cleaning up the tray and then getting up to set it on the table at the side of his room.

Once Fon had his back turned towards Genji he slowly moved his body to lay down on the cot, only now realizing that he was still shaking slightly. Closing his eyes, his mind thankfully devoid of any feelings or memories he began slipping into sleep quickly, only jerking awake once when he suddenly felt a weight over his body.  
Opening his eyes again he flinched when he saw Fon stand next to the cot with the edges of the blanket in his arms, as he settled it over Genji’s body.

Putting himself up into a fetal position, curling around the orb, Genji relaxed again and let out a long huff of air as he slipped into a dreamless sleep. He didn’t even wake when Fon began cleaning the floor as quietly as he could, only leaving the room and Genji when he had made sure everything was clean and the fire in the corner had been taken care of, so it would provide Genji with enough warmth through the rest of the day.

*****

Genji slowly woke when he heard his name called, huffing air out slowly as his brain began to wake as well and his body. He really didn’t feel like being awake already but when opening his eyes slowly he saw his room filled with the soft light of dawn – he must have slept all through the night.

 **“It’sfine”** , Genji slurred the words, his voice still thick with sleep and hoarse from the cold and infection his body was still battling. Carefully moving around on the cot and changing the side he was laying on to face Zenyatta the cyborg blinked at the man slowly, his mind not yet fully awake.

 **“Mondatta brought me blankets, we talked briefly…then I must have fallen asleep…”** , Genji explained, leaving out the details of his accident. If Zenyatta already knew about it from Mondatta or Fon, Genji didn’t need to tell it to the man and if he didn’t know yet…well, there was no reason to make Zenyatta worry now, it was in the past. Though the low throbbing in his hand told Genji otherwise.

Careful not to throw any of the blankets or Zenyatta’s orb to the ground he moved himself up into a sitting position, wincing and groaning when he used his bandaged palm to push himself up.  
Now that his body was slowly coming back online the pain and symptoms registered in Genji’s brain. He wasn’t feeling as horrible as he had last night but he was still very far away from being healthy.  
If he went to eat with the other monks he risked infecting them, that could count as a good enough reason not to go, right?

**“I’d like to eat here…”**

Carefully Genji moved his human hand into his lap, tracing the edges of the bandage with his other hand. All of a sudden Genji felt like he had been hit in the stomach, the air leaving his lungs and nausea washing over him when he remembered the topic of the conversation, he had had with Mondatta. The monk knows.  
Looking up at Zenyatta and into the calm face of the man, Genji tried to make out if Mondatta had told him anything about this or not…the man had told him that everything would stay in this room and between Genji and him…but Zenyatta was his student after all, who knew how deep their relationship was and how much trust was exchanged between them.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful art drawn by my beautiful co-creator! Go check out her stuff (I put links to it all in the notes of the first chapter!)  
> It wasn't drawn for the Genyatta BigBang and is also not exactly depicting the scene in the fic but is heavily inspired by it. Thank you once again Nen <3

Zenyatta busied himself with tidying up some of the infirmary items away on the shelves, medications for the cold Genji was harbouring, sterile dressings, still in their packaging, and curiously, more bandages. Quirking an eyebrow, the monk pivoted to face the awakening man, noting the distinct wince that marred his tired expression, gaze following the line of sight down Genji’s arm to the neatly bandaged palm.

 **“You’re hurt.”**  
Obviously, he was, and Zenyatta cringed, recoiling mentally at his ineptitude. **  
“Hurt more I mean, did something happen, did you fall?”  
**Mondatta had been here at least, but what had gone on? Had Genji attempted to leave again, flee the monastery and go on across the range until he dropped dead from the freezing temperatures? A shudder rippled through Zenyatta, he certainly hoped not.  
**“I’m glad you had some rest.”**

He couldn’t see his orb anywhere and for a moment, considered the possibility that Mondatta had taken it. If he hadn’t, he could just imagine the lecture he would receive for losing such an item. It had taken months of work to complete the whole set and at the end of it, Mondatta had told him he would find them quite irreplaceable. Zenyatta’s feet twitched, scuffing the floor, all idle subconscious and memory. He had found that statement to be true.

 **“My orb, I left it with you last night, but it must have lost its charge before long. Do you still have it?”** hopeful, he waited patiently, hearing Genji’s request for food a second later.  
Ah, he supposed that was for the best, all things considered, Genji was still coughing and hacking in extended fits. Zenyatta struggled to recall a time he had seen another this unwell, although there was the time Fon had become infected with a system virus that made his speech act up and with hilarious results…it wasn’t exactly the same.

 **“I’ll see what I can find for you when I head to the hall.”** , he said, a warm smile blooming on his lips that lit up his whole face.  
This morning was so unlike the last, refreshed and curious, Zenyatta was ready to face the day. Once he had brought Genji his food he would head to the communal washroom himself. The warmth of the water in such cold mornings was expedient at soothing tense muscles and alleviating a busy mind. The perfect precursor to meditation and, if he wasn’t mistaken, might actually do their patient some good.

Absent-minded teeth worried his lower lip for the most fleeting of seconds. He had had an idea.  
**“Listen, Genji, it has been two days now and I do not know how long you were out there on the mountain or even before that. I also know next to nothing about your cybernetics, but…we have a large bathing area if you wish to clean yourself up a little.”  
**Not that Genji needed it, all that wire-brushed chrome. But his flesh and blood portions were still bearing the hints of his long days in the wilderness. It could well sooth his chest, too.

 **“I can show you where it is after you have eaten if you prefer? I am planning on heading that way myself.”  
**He would catch up with Mondatta after. Perhaps then he could discover what his master had found in those books. Dragons, subliminal dreams that felt so real he could still smell the copper tang of blood in his nose, sense the blistering heat of the agony the creature had been stricken by. It had to be in there, he couldn’t be the first to experience such things.

Half an eye watched the other man cautiously, hoping he hadn’t offended him by suggesting he ought to take a bath, change his oil…or whatever those particular cybernetics required. His own needed minimal maintenance, self-sustaining, his legs were not the newest technology, but they had been incredibly durable. At first, they had seemed like a hindrance, a tool he could not quite master the use of, now he used them like doing so was second nature. He had even given himself some upgrades. Fon had been suitably unimpressed to discover that Zenyatta could now float as an omnic did while engaging in meditation practices, dubbing it reckless and needless. But that was fussy old Fon for you.

 **“Don’t feel obligated, I can just as soon as bring you your breakfast and be on my way.”**  
That was better, the choice was Genji’s after all, nobody was going to dig him out of the proverbial pit.  
**“Contrary to what Fon would have you believe, you are free to move around the monastery as you please - with, uh, the exception of personal living quarters. I assure you, Mondatta notices everything that it ever so slightly out of place.”**   
A snicker, he hoped would be taken in good humour and, if possible, raise a story to tell, or maybe not. He was a hard one to read, this man.

* * *

Genji cursed Zenyatta’s precise skill of observation when the man’s gaze found his bandaged hand, questioning him about it. Was there any way he could not make himself look like a complete fool retelling what had happened last night? Would a lie really help now, when all Zenyatta showed was genuine concern? Genji decided to go with the truth but leave out the gruesome details. He certainly did not want the monk to worry even more than he seemingly already did.

 **“After you left…I had to get across the room to eat the dinner you left me. The glass broke when I had a coughing fit and I…fell. Mondatta found me…and Fon stitched it”** , Genji explained in a short version what had happened. He left out the fact that the coughing fit he had, had been bad enough that he had bled afterwards. Surely that was simply the infection and with rest and time he would soon be better.

His vision was blurring slightly, and the cyborg pressed his eyes closed, the headache slowly creeping back into his head and making him dizzy.  
Hearing Zenyatta ask for his orb, worry obvious in his words, Genji rummaged through the many layers of blankets he had collected on his bed. Feeling the orb below and in between one of the many folds, he slowly untangled the mess he made of the cot grabbing the orb, holding it out towards Zenyatta.  
**“Mondatta had charged it before he left”** , Genji explained softly. He still had no idea how the orbs worked and even less about how the charging of them worked. He had seen both Zenyatta and Mondatta do it and the difference between the two had been fascinating. Where Zenyatta had focused on it in his hands, Mondatta had simply…done it. Like it was nothing.

Shivering slightly when the cold of the room began to push out the warmth his body had collected throughout the night Genji grabbed one of the blankets and moved it so he could wrap it around his upper body. The uncomfortable sticky feeling of his human skin didn’t go unnoticed, the same happening with his hair hanging slightly into his vision, streaks of it sticking together from sweat and dirt.

Looking up when Zenyatta began speaking to him again, Genji couldn’t help the small smile passing over his lips when the monk addressed exactly what he had just thought of.  
**“I would love to clean myself up, thank you. I do not take offence with you suggesting it…and how could you know what my body needs, it’s not like you see something like me every day”** , Genji explained while looking at his cybernetic hand and clenching it into a tight fist when he felt the sudden urge to claw at the metal and feel where his _human_ body began and where the machine parts of him started.

 **“You could show me to the baths on your way to breakfast then?”** , Genji asked carefully, maybe this way he would not need to eat again. He has had more food since he arrived here than he usually ate over the course of a couple of days and he still felt full from the soup he had last night.

Genji chuckled softly when Zenyatta mentioned Mondatta’s keen observation skill, the man did seem to be able to know everything that was happening in the monastery. A sharp mind that was needed when you lead people, no matter which purpose the leading had.

 **“I would not intrude on anyone’s personal quarters on purpose…but walking anywhere alone might not be happening anytime soon. I cut my palm when all I wanted was to walk across the room, remember?”** , Genji replied in a teasing voice. He didn’t know why his mind was suddenly so clear and he felt more like his old self…of course, the knowledge of Mondatta knowing about his family and now partially of his fate worried him endlessly but Zenyatta did not know this…yet. There was no need to let his bad mood out on the younger monk.

* * *

Zenyatta’s wince was visible, he knew he should never have left Genji alone, burning curiosity to discover the truth or not, there was a time and place for study, and it was not when there was a person in need. He dipped his head in abject apology, the guilt wringing at his gut.

 **“I’m sorry, I should have been here or at least left the food where you could reach it. I wasn’t thinking.”  
**He offered a small, unsure smile, his embarrassment at his own ineptitude showing keenly. But at least Mondatta had been there to help, if he hadn’t, who knew how long Genji would have lain there unattended to? It didn’t bear thinking about and it wouldn’t happen again.

He took the orb from Genji’s hand, a little huff of laughter as the man told him how Mondatta had charged it for him. It was probably good for another night if that was the case, so he handed it back with a shrug.

**“He’s far better at charging them than I. I trust you to look after it.”**

Genji had seemed to warm to the idea of heading up to the baths, it would be a good chance for him to make himself feel a little more human. Those were the terms Mondatta had put to him the day he had offered much the same, not too long after the incident with his legs. Which, in part, answered the question of how Zenyatta knew what care his cybernetics required, at least in part. The monk had not spoken of it to Genji, there had been no need and for his part, he knew it was still something of a small issue for himself.  
He had not been born like this any more than he imagined Genji had, and a painful series of events was not something he wished to relive at this very moment. If they went to the baths, however, he would know, he would _see_ …and then what?

Then he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.  
**“Maybe it’s better if I wash up before breakfast”** , he suggested. It had to be a suggestion, the idea of making Genji feel like he was constantly being supervised led to mistrust, and he couldn’t have that. They had made marginal progress the night before. Still, it was a little intimate, wasn’t it, bathing? The baths were communal, it came as second nature to him, but to a stranger…it wouldn’t have been the first time someone baulked at the idea.  
**“Don’t want you slipping and doing yourself another injury”** , Zenyatta winked playfully, better to keep it light.

Standing, he offered out a hand to help Genji up, almost considering rescinding it all together, because the day before he had taken unkindly to the offer. Perhaps the man saw it as a weakness, perhaps it was a matter of trust on principle, Zenyatta had not asked, but there was nothing to be ashamed of, asking for help, as far as he was concerned. It wouldn’t go beyond the two of them.

 **“No time like the present.”**  
Came the chirrup, far too joyful for this time of the morning.  
**“Food can wait, unless I really can tempt you into some?”**

*****

When they were both ready, Zenyatta led Genji to the small path that led a smidge further up the mountain. Within the monastery grounds was a larger outbuilding, innocuously tucked away with some of the others, many were housing for the monks, those who had reached loftier heights of enlightenment than your average, or those too elderly to be integrated into the surprisingly bustling lifestyle within the monastery proper. But the one Zenyatta led Genji to was where the baths could be found. Opening the latched door, he stepped inside to find the place deserted - just as he had expected - and ushered his charge inside.

The baths themselves were vast, with small stalls to rinse yourself off beforehand. Warm water bubbled up from an unseen source in the central bath itself, steam rising into the air in delicate little clouds, filling it with the scent of the various fresh plants and salts that had been deposited in there that morning. Along the way, Zenyatta had procured them some towelling to dry off with, setting that down upon a bench closest to the stalls. He directed Genji to one such stall, disappearing into one himself, before closing the door and undressing. **  
“So, is all of your chassis you, or do you need to remove any of it?”**  
A rather invasive question, but he needed to know if the man required any help removing it. 

His own clothing tossed over the top of the door, he helped himself to the waiting bucket of soapy water, lathering some suds up in his hands before starting to spread it over his skin, scrubbing thoroughly with the washcloth that had been left laying to one side.

 **“One is for the soap, the other for rinsing”,** Zenyatta explained, referring to the buckets, unsure of where, exactly, Genji had come from. His accent suggested Japan or thereabouts, but that meant nothing as to his origin, he could have merely spent enough time there to pick things up, and as it appeared to be synthesized in part, it could have also been a reflection of the cybernetics designer.  
**“Then it’ll do you some good to sit in the tub across the way. If you need any help, just say the word.”** \- He didn’t suppose Genji would admit it, but he had to offer.  
**“If not, I will join you in a few moments.”  
**Another pass of the cloth, back and forth, this way and that, and he wrung its bulk out. Zenyatta’s mind wandered to the tasks ahead of him. There was Genji to tend to, but it seemed odd that Mondatta had let him get away with not tending to his studies. There was something going on there, enough to have piqued his curiosity.   
  


* * *

Genji accepted the offered apology from Zenyatta with a short nod himself. There was nothing that could change the past now and the cyborg knew that it had not been the monk’s intention to make fun of him with placing the food on the small desk furthest away from his cot.

Taking the orb back into his hand, he immediately felt the warmth radiating from it. He had thought it had just been from the metal lying underneath all the blankets together with his feverish body and that material had simply absorbed the warmth. That it was indeed still charged and that this might also be the reason why Genji’s mind was so calm surprised him. He moved the orb around in his hands, watching the faint golden glow before Zenyatta began speaking again.

 **“You joke and yet you know it is a possibility”** , Genji replied with a smirk playing on the edges of his lips as he took the playful banter and returned it. It wasn’t like he had shown a lot of grace in the last two days he had been with the monks now. It was definitely better if someone stayed with him while he washed himself.

The cyborg stared at the offered hand, considering taking it for a moment but deciding against it, heaving himself slowly off the bed and into a stand. He did not feel as horrible on his feet as he had yesterday, but he was sure that longer distances were still impossible for him to walk.  
His mind was racing around the fact that the way Zenyatta had talked about it, the baths would most likely be shared by more than one person…that seemed awfully intimate for Genji even though he had nothing to hide or show for that matter. Since he would not remove any of his casing anyway.

Following Zenyatta slowly, his legs feeling more powerful and the joints with which they were connected to his flesh hurting a lot less than the day before, but he kept close to the walls just in case. Only when they exited the buildings to walk slightly up the mountain did he reach for Zenyatta’s shoulder to help him with his balance.

As soon as he stepped inside Genji was assaulted by the humid air and the fresh smell of different herbs. His burning lungs, that had not liked the little hike up to this building, calmed slightly with the steam filling them and easing the pain.  
He followed the monk towards the smaller stalls to the side of the room and stood there a little awkwardly for a moment after Zenyatta left him. Turning back around and closing the door after he heard the same happen in the stall next to him, he slowly sunk down on the small wooden bench. He was not unfamiliar with the concept of such baths since they were quite common in Japan, but it had been many years since Genji had last set foot into one

His mind was racing with the fact that he was actually sitting in a bath, with the young monk undressing next to him if the sound of rustling clothes was anything to judge by.

Zenyatta’s voice startled him and he let out a gasp in surprise at the question. He had feared exactly this. Of course, he had chassis and parts that he could remove from his cybernetic body. Most of his upper body was still human, except for his entire right arm. But since the skin had been damaged so severely from the fire it had been replaced by synthetic skin covered by the highest grade of metal that Overwatch had been able to afford. His legs though…they were dead weight from the hip down.

 **“I-…I am fine. I can do it myself…”** , Genji called back, not wanting to arouse too much suspicion with staying silent for a long time. It would not do him any good if Zenyatta were to come into his stall now and attempt to help him get parts of his body off so he might clean himself. For now, he could sit in the warm water without needing to remove anything but he would need to take the time sooner or later to remove all the plating under which skin or other material was so he would not get any skin infection. It had happened one too many times after Genji’s body had still been new to him and he hadn’t properly taken care of it…Angela had always given him a long talk for it. But now? No one was left to tell him that he needed to take better care of his body.

Hearing the sounds of water and soft rubbing from the stall next to his own he slowly reached for the bucket with soapy water and a washcloth Zenyatta had provided him with. Dipping it into the lukewarm water he used his cybernetic arm to spread the water along his skin on his right arm. The bandage on his hand would certainly be soaked by the end of his bath but Genji couldn’t change the fact now and would deal with it later.

The water on his skin felt wonderful and Genji tried to remember when he had last washed his skin with soap and warm water. Scrubbing against his skin slightly and reaching all the way to the back of his neck and his armpit he relished in the feeling of getting rid of all the sweat and dirt from his journey and sickness.

Taking a smaller bowl Genji took water out from the bucket and as he leaned forward, he poured it over his head, wetting his hair and letting the water drip down around his face. After repeating the process, a second time he put the bowl to the side and reached for the bar of soap. Rubbing it between his palms proved to be difficult with the bandage around his one hand and the other being entirely made from metal. Somehow Genji managed to get some of the soap on his fingers so he could clean his hair with it.

Genji cursed when he felt that parts of his hair had become too knotted to run his fingers through and the more he tried, the worse it seemed to get. Hissing in pain when some of the soapy water managed to soak through the bandage, he cursed once more. Letting out a defeated and frustrated sigh he left it like it was and reached for the bowl to rinse the soap and dirt from his body and hair.

Once he managed to get even the last bit of soap off, he slowly stood from the low bench, steadying himself with placing his hand on the wall until his vision stopped spinning in front of him.

Opening the stall on the other side from where he had come in from, he saw that Zenyatta had already finished and sat down in the large central, steaming pool of water. Walking slowly towards it, careful to place his steps slowly so he might not slip and keep his balance.  
Stopping a bit away from Zenyatta he made an effort not to glance the monk’s way as he slowly got into the basin.

Genji had long stopped bathing or showering and simply cleaned himself with a wet cloth whenever he felt it was needed, so feeling the water finding its way into the smallest of openings, warming the metal and his burned skin below his stomach casing was…weird. Glancing towards Zenyatta trying to see what the man thought of him like this he noticed something else first. Finally, when he was fully seated in the warm water, Genji breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his nerves.  
Even though the water was shifting constantly and Genji had thought it had been a trick of the light reflecting on the surface of the water, he was sure that the longer he looked below the water that Zenyatta’s calves and feet were…cybernetic.  
Looking up, averting his eyes when he moved his head up to not seem like he was peeping, he looked directly into Zenyatta’s face.

 **“You…your legs…”** , Genji stuttered and he felt a slight blush spread across his cheeks, the heat of the water and the temperature around them making his head slightly dizzy. He knew he wasn’t being the politest person, pointing out someone else’s cybernetics like this and yet…  
Genji was suddenly reminded of their argument and Zenyatta’s words. Genji had accused him of not understanding how it felt to lose a part of oneself…Genji hadn’t known how to read Zenyatta’s expression then …but now? Now it all made sense. Because the monk knew _exactly_ what it meant to lose parts of oneself. Not as severely as Genji did and more than likely under different circumstances but it didn’t change the fact that Zenyatta might actually be able to understand Genji on a level no one else had ever been able to.

* * *

After a long rinse, Zenyatta moved from the stalls into the larger pool at the centre of the room. It was an impressive structure for such a seemingly small and innocuous building, the walls decorated in beautifully intricate patterns, all gilded and hand-carved in wood years before he had ever ventured here.  
Easily, he sank down into the water, allowing himself to settle upon one of the stone seats around the edge of the pool itself, the warmth of its waters staving off the bracing cold they had both faced on the short walk up here.

A brief glance towards the stalls showed two cybernetic feet poking out from beneath the raised door. Good, Genji was still standing on them, no need to worry just yet. Eyes front and centre, the monk tried to relax a little, it would be another day of healing practice for him and that meant feeling rather drained later. One day, Mondatta had promised him, he would not feel that toll quite so keenly. One day, but not today.

To Zenyatta’s left, the creak of a door opening broke him free of his temporary reverie, and he peered to the left to see Genji making his way across the floor to the pool, joining him a second later. So normal a part of Zenyatta’s routine was this little daily trip, that it never even occurred to him that anything might have been out of the ordinary - besides the fact Genji had elected to accompany him on this occasion - because simply put, there was not. Yet for reasons he might never understand, the weight of Genji’s eyes upon him beckoned Zenyatta to look back up again, follow the other’s line of sight down into the water, exactly where he was sitting, and fixate there, expression unusually slack.

The monk instantly felt the heat of a sudden blush creeping up his neck and saturating its way right up to his cheekbones. He had been right, after all, this was a little intimate and strange, to say the least, but when it came as second nature he-  
Genji’s words hit him like an icy blast from the north face of the mountain, stilling his blush and even making it recede back down his neck, complexion suddenly sullen rather than glowing. His legs, Genji had noticed his legs. Embarrassment had long left Zenyatta years ago, when others inquired about the cybernetics he had in place, he would explain to them the short version of events as he recalled them - little more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that he was fortunate to be here among friends now, and that these same friends had made it possible for him to walk again. In those memories, he felt safe, comforted, unaffected by the true toll taken on him through the course of those months.

But Genji’s sudden reminder, a very stark and startling sounding reminder, had taken Zenyatta aback and for those very first few seconds, the poor monk was at a complete loss for words. Had he seriously believed that Genji was staring at anything else? He was an idiot in situations such as these. Inept, out of tune, he could practically _feel_ Mondatta scowling disapprovingly from here.

 **“…are cybernetic, yes”** , he supplied softly, finishing off Genji’s fractured sentence, hoping that he at least sounded somewhat reassuring.  
**“You were not expecting this, I take it?”**  
The nepali monk winced, perhaps seeing this evoked some unpleasant memories in Genji’s mind. But he could never be too sure.  
**“Apologies, perhaps I should have mentioned it. I did not think it would be at all that surprising considering the extensive…well, considering your own situation.”**

The monk’s gaze wandered back down, watching the light dance in the rippling water as it marred the true outline of his legs, their gleaming silver finish now scuffed and scarred by years of use, he preferred them this way, imperfect, just as he was. A raw gem that needed no polishing to define its value or true self.

 **“You are concerned.”**  
It was pure speculation on his part, he didn’t know for certain what Genji was feeling, the connection he had felt within the Iris weakened every day that he withdrew from its effects. But there was a hunch, a small nag of a doubt at the back of his mind that recalled how Genji had, twice now, informed him that Zenyatta had no idea how he felt, how it was to be as he was. That was true, he could not dispute it because each individual experienced things differently, yet not all people thought as free-flowing as the Shambali.  
**“Do not be. I took no offence to your comments, you were correct for the most part. I don’t profess to know; I _couldn’t_ know what it was like to lose so much. But I do understand loss.”**

* * *

Genji took in Zenyatta’s sudden stillness and already began to regret his words, the suddenness of them in such an already weird setting. He hadn’t planned on blurting his observation out quite so suddenly but looking down at the cybernetic legs of the monk after Zenyatta finished his fractured sentence, he couldn’t help but stare. The man was now, here in the hot water with him, almost as bare and naked as Genji was.  
**“I-…I am surprised…I did not expect this, yes”** , he murmured, moving one hand from the water to run through his still-wet hair. The cyborg felt like he had made the awkward situation between them even worse. And it didn’t help that the heat and the humidity seemed to cloud his mind and made him feel quite dazed.

Of course, it was surprising, no matter his own body. Seeing someone else with cybernetics was always weird for Genji. Everyone he had met so far had single pieces from their body removed, either because of an accident or even the war. No one had ever been like him and he prayed that this remained so – no one should ever go through the things he had to go through. The long process of his body accepting the cybernetic limbs and synthetic parts that helped his body function.

The cyborg wondered briefly what had happened to Zenyatta…both legs were cut off roughly at the same height, almost like it had been a clean cut through both legs. But he knew it was not his place to ask the monk about it. Not when he himself was so reluctant to talk about his own past.

Zenyatta’s words surprised Genji and he whipped his head back up to look at the monk’s face. It once again baffled Genji how easily this man was able to read him. Yes, he was indeed concerned about his words hurting him, accusing him of something when Genji had not even known the entire picture.

The cyborg’s hand slowly moved through his hair, trying to get the knots out from it but soon giving up with a frustrated sigh. Using both his hands to cup a little bit of water in his palms, he moved it to splash it against his face, the warm water feeling almost cool against his feverish, heated skin. Closing his eyes and rubbing his human hand over his face he shuddered at the feeling of the scars beneath his fingers. The soaked bandage around his palm was beginning to feel disgusting and he would need to ask either Zenyatta or Fon for a change of it once he was done here.

Moving down his face he made a rough noise at the back of his throat. How long had he been wandering around that he felt the beginning of a beard grow on his upper lip? He must have looked like quite a mess, no wonder Zenyatta had offered him a bath.

His thoughts were slowly beginning to circle inside his head.  
**_“extensive damage”_** , is what Zenyatta had probably wanted to say but found a clever way around it. Nevertheless, the man had been right. He had been extensively damaged and had been repaired…rebuilt – from the little amount of human body that had been left.  
Looking down to his body, emerged in the water, small bubbles coming from his legs where water was moving between the joints and plating, his mind went back to the time after his extensive surgeries.

He didn’t remember much about the time immediately after, memories lost in the painful and drug-induced sleep and state of mind. The soft sounds of water and small waves hitting against his body suddenly awakening a memory inside of him and he gasped when the sudden images appear in front of his eyes. Looking down into the water and his legs he closed his eyes, groaning softly. Could he not have a single moment in which his mind left him in peace about the past?

He remembered being in a tank of some kind, fluid moving around him with only his head being above the weird water. The intense smell of... _something_ hung in the air, something Genji couldn’t place but immediately makes him think: hospital.  
People were standing around the tank, talking in hushed whispers but Genji couldn’t see them, his sight blurry and his head hurting from the pull he felt at the back of his head. He remembered wanting to move, to reach back to his head and find out where the pain was coming from, but he had been unable to move his body at all.

Jerking violently in the present time, the water rippling around him and Genji’s head moving to look back at Zenyatta, he pulled himself from the memories and forced himself to stay in the present.  
**“I am sorry…I must have…I don’t…I remembered something”** , Genji murmured, shaking slightly from the weird feeling that lingered inside of him from the flashback. A feeling of being watched like an animal in a zoo…or a test subject under the microscope.

* * *

  
  


Any awkwardness hanging in the air only seemed to rise with the steam, rather than evaporate, and Zenyatta found himself feeling its bulk as it expanded to fill the space around them. Genji was genuinely mollified, he was actually taken aback, and for the first time since he had come to the monastery, showing more than just a passing interest in something about this place. Even such a tiny step was notable, more so than their ill-fated excursion in the dry stores.

Maybe Genji wasn’t the only one taken aback.

The monk lifted one leg from the water, wiggling his foot around at the ankle as he looked at it admiringly, droplets falling down into the rippling water below. The limb was long overdue a tune-up, but he knew if he let Fon anywhere near either of them, it would result in what he referred to as a ‘fussfest.’ Zenyatta had no desire to be coddled right now, especially as he was so close to attaining the honours he had been seeking all this time.

 **“It’s ok, you weren’t to know.”**  
Reassurance, however slight, was still welcome and by the time Zenyatta had lowered his leg again, easing a sigh through his nose and relaxing back into the water, it was obvious, even to an outsider, that his mind was gently chewing over the past. If it would be beneficial for Genji to know, he couldn’t tell one way or the other.

Genji was by no means an open book, and that was just fine with Zenyatta. However, his closed-off demeanour and the traumas he had suffered, they would consume him entirely if he continued to have no outlet to speak of. Perhaps, by way of explaining how he had come to be like this, the monk could find a way of getting Genji to open up?  
The monk opened his eyes again, steam rising in wispy curls of semi-transparency around them, sinking into his skin to leave a thin sheen of water droplets wherever it caught hold. This was quite possibly the most peaceful part of his day, a chance to reflect - there was no better time.

 **“I was fifteen when it happened.”**  
Zenyatta spoke out of nowhere, head still tilted back, leaving the vulnerable column of his neck exposed, a state of total relaxation.  
**“They waited for me as I crossed the path between the village and the monastery, they must have followed me down there. The ambush happened before I could tell that there was more than one of them, they were so silent, and I so overwhelmed…”**  
Bowing his head, the monk huffed a breath, shaking his head gently a couple of times as if to clear his thoughts.  
**“I didn’t stand a chance.”**

He said nothing of the words that had been exchanged, the gloating, the threats they made good on. He couldn’t, not yet, it lent nothing to the story, nor did their motivations. This was not about why he had lost his limbs, only that he had. And just as Zenyatta had found a way to overcome his circumstances, so would Genji - it was just a matter of time and patience.  
Looking back at Genji, he held his gaze for a moment or two, sensing the same, measured, surprise he had felt before. He would have questions, Zenyatta imagined, and he was more than ready to answer them.

A smile tugged at the corners of Zenyatta’s mouth, unsure if he should show how quite at ease with it all he truly was. It had taken years of persistence, patience and a strong hand to guide him, yet he had found peace here, he had learned to be whole again.  
**“I learned a valuable lesson that night; that all actions carry consequences and the circumstances you may find yourself in, as a direct result, might not be those you planned for.”  
**Zenyatta’s hand reached over to gently squeeze the other man’s shoulder.  
**“But that does not mean you cannot overcome them, nor that your soul will forever be haunted by the shadow of who or whatever did this to you.”  
**It got better, it really did, and when Genji’s infection was gone, perhaps he would start to see this too.

He watched the other closely, rescinding the hand, recalling the way in which Genji had recoiled the day before, flinched away from something so simple as the brush of skin on skin, the contact leaving him feeling like he had been burned. His gaze had grown distant, glassy-eyed, caught in some distant reverie, much like Zenyatta, himself, had been seconds before.  
Yet when he spoke, it was to apologize, and for that much, the monk could not hide his look of confusion transmuted shock. What in the name of the Iris did this man have to be sorry for? He was a bloody-minded handful, he was reckless at best, but under the circumstances, that was to be expected.  
**“A memory you could not recall before?”**  
How extensive the damage to the cyborg’s mind had been, there was no way for him to tell. **“That is _good_ , is it not?”**   
Something inside him caught, wincing - it was entirely possible that the memory was not good. _Well done, Zenyatta._

A dismissive wave of his hand interrupted a potential rebuttal **“That’s… _not_ what I meant.”  
**Focus, just keep your eye on the goal, let the iris guide you.  
**“What I meant to say was, that if your memory has been patchy, the signs that suggest it is coming back show that you are starting to improve.”**

Zenyatta shifted in the water, pushing himself upright, then rising to a stand, paying no mind to his state of undress, nor indeed where Genji‘s straight line of sight would be when he did so.  
At least, not until he had done it.

**“O-oh…Sorry, I uhh, my towel is- “**

Caught out there like a deer in the headlights, the monk wasn’t about to give his blush so much as an inch of egress this time, swiftly turning on his heel enough to forget that water created far much more resistance than air. Overcompensating he stumbled, water sloshing noisily about his feet, which wavered this way and back again. In the end, there was only one outcome: Down he went, flailing the entire way, crashing into the pool, ass first, vanishing beneath the water temporarily, before surfacing almost as quick, spluttering the water he had accidentally inhaled as he went under.

 **“I-I’m fine…absolutely… _fine._..don’t get up.”** \- Genji didn’t, and that only compounded the monk’s embarrassment. How many times did he have to blunder in front of this man before he lost all confidence in his ability to perform even the simplest of tasks?

As drowned rats went, Zenyatta made quite a fetching lookalike, wiping the excess away from his eyes, just enough to look to the edge of the large body of water and grope for the towel he had left waiting. Appropriating the soft fluffiness, he quickly wrapped it around his waist to conceal at least part of his blushes, hauling himself from the pool completely and trailing water all over the stones beyond.  
**“I just overbalanced.”**

Kasaya, where had he left his kasaya? Zenyatta’s eyes quickly found the bulk of the bright orange material, folded neatly over a small wooden stool by the washing stalls. Immediately, he began to amble over towards them.  
**“I’m not used to having company that gets me thinking. That’s all.”**

* * *

Genji watched Zenyatta carefully as he eased his legs back into the water and seemingly relax, though his mind was clearly somewhere else still. Not that Genji was anyone to judge the monk, he constantly got lost in his own old memories and thoughts. Brand new and old emotions swirling inside of him, ripping open old wounds or creating new ones in the scared landscape that seemed to be both his body and soul.

The cyborg leaned back against the back of the pool, trying to relax his shoulders and pushing them down and backwards – his body was holding too much tension and even if most of him was cybernetics, the human parts of him could still get sore from disuse.

Perking up and moving his head to look at Zenyatta when he suddenly began to speak, Genji listened carefully to the tale of how the monk had lost part of his legs. Such personal information given so freely…Genji wondered if Zenyatta expected him to now share something of his backstory as well. Was this a trick to get him to open up about his past? Surely it was not…Zenyatta would ask openly if he wanted to know, right?

Something shifted inside of Genji once Zenyatta stopped talking. The monk had been a victim to violence just as Genji had. With the difference that Genji had thought that he had held a chance…but his reluctance to hurt his brother had stopped him. And he had paid the price, was still paying for it and would forever carry the scars for his foolishness.

Genji turned his gaze away and looked down at his hands in his lap, beneath the surface of the water, musing over the words the monk had just spoken. He knew better than anyone that actions had consequences…his foolish actions had led up to the fight and his death – and once again Genji’s thoughts wandered to the dark place that whispered to him, that denying Overwatch’s offer to rebuilt him would have been the better option…simply dying after the fight.  
Was his brother suffering from consequences or was he happily living his life, finally rid of his foolish younger brother? Anger was rising inside of Genji, heat crawling over his body and his hand began to shake. Clenching them into tight fists he stared at them, his eyes going in and out of focus. He wished for him to suffer, live his life knowing what he did – that he killed his own brother! – and one day Genji may have the chance to take his revenge.

Jumping slightly when Zenyatta touched his shoulder, simply because he had been so lost in his thoughts again that he had momentarily forgotten about the monk next to him. His words rang inside his head…would he really have a chance to overcome this? His soul being trapped in a foreign body that was not his own, nothing of it reminded Genji of his former self. And how would he ever escape the images that haunted him every night and in so many of his waking hours?

Just as he turned his head back towards Zenyatta, Genji jerked violently backwards, the water having turned red, the sudden smell of copper in his nose, and a sudden pain searing down his cybernetic arm. Phantom pain the doctors had warned him about…  
Turning his head quickly to look back at the water he blinks when he saw that it had turned to normal again…just another sick trick of his mind.

The warmth from Zenyatta’s hand suddenly left his shoulder and once again Genji caught himself craving the touch as soon as it was gone even if the act of actually being touched made him feel sick. He was so starved for touch that his mind was screaming.

The cyborg listened to Zenyatta stumble over his words, the monk trying to correct his words in fear of Genji misunderstanding them. The frown on his face soothed when the monk made clear how he had meant it even though Genji wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember more from the immediate time after his surgeries and presumed death…but filling the gaps in his memory might help him understand.

Before Genji was able to reply anything to the monk, the man was suddenly moving in the water and getting upright in front of him. Blinking slowly Genji knew he should be averting his gaze but instead it stayed fixed on the sight in front of him. The monks most private part on open display right in front of Genji. In another life, Genji would have made a flirty comment about the rather beautiful sight in front of him but instead, now he was watching the monk flail around and ultimately land in the water of the pool.

Watching him surface again, spluttering and wiping water from his eyes Genji felt his mouth pull into a broad smile before he let out a soft chuckle. The emotion bubbling inside his chest pushed itself up and past his lips, his chuckle turning into soft laughter that shook his body. It wasn’t meant in a malicious way and Genji hoped that Zenyatta didn’t take it that way but just the absurdity of their situation right now and the fever still making Genji light-headed had tipped the cyborg over.

Reigning his laughter in again, only a soft smile remaining on his lips he watched the monk get out of the pool, granting him privacy as he climbed out and wrapped the towel around himself. Keeping his gaze locked down as he listened to the wet sound of Zenyatta’s feet walking back towards the rooms they changed in, he pulled himself up the edge and out of the water. Forgetting about the bandage and wound on his palm, he hissed in pain when he put his weight on it.

Hearing the shuffling of fabric behind him he concentrated on his legs and the dripping water that slowly left his joints and plating. He would definitely need to get this properly dried soon.

 **“Thinking about what though is the question, right?”** , Genji suddenly asked, a mischievous tone carrying through the bath, a shadow of the flirty way Genji used to approach topics and make everything into something it was not. His mind providing him of what he might have thought about for some time now if he was still the man he used to be. The monk’s soft uncut cock a mental image Genji tried to shake from his mind as soon as he realized what he had just said. Tensing immediately and both fearing that he had overstepped an invisible line and feeling disgusted by himself he shivered. His old self had been able to make these kinds of jokes…the man he was now had no right to even think something like this about another, in his eyes, quite beautiful human being.

 **“I-…I apologize. I do not know what has come over me…”,** he mumbled loud enough for Zenyatta to hear, feeling his cheeks heat up with a blush both from shame and embarrassment.

* * *

His eyes flew open wide, eyebrows rising almost high enough that it looked like they might touch his hairline, the monk paused in his tracks, half-turning to face the cyborg again, mouth working uselessly as it attempted to fit around the words he had not yet formed.

That was a tone he had never heard Genji use, he had been here two days and thus far, everything to come out of his mouth had been one of two tones: Sick or angry. Sometimes he outdid himself and produced both at once, yet now Zenyatta wasn’t sure what he should feel; elation, or confusion. The latter, he decided, was not productive, so he flashed Genji a bewildered smile and closed the stall door.

 ** _“Mondatta…”_**  
A named plucked from thin air and far from the truth. **  
“…I was thinking about Mondatta. He said he wished for me to continue my studies soon.”**

No sooner had the wooden barrier swung shut behind him, Zenyatta rolled his head back, face upturned towards the ceiling, eyes shut tight while a grimace pinched his smooth features. Fists balling, he shook his head slowly. Why, in the name of the Iris, had that been what he had blurted out. Was the truth really that much of a sin? No, he just wasn’t used to that kind of attention, it had thrown him well and truly and now he had to learn to get back up.

Easing a calming breath through his nose, the monk reached for the towelling he had left inside the stall’s single-seat, appropriating it, he began to pat his skin dry.  
**“You have nothing to apologize for.”** \- Except for the blatant staring, that had been…rude. At least, that’s what his sensibilities _should_ have been telling him.

Genji sounded genuinely mortified, which only compounded the beetroot situation applying itself to his cheeks with every waking second that passed between them since he had seen the cyborg’s gaze drop to where it had.  
**“Fever does strange things to a person’s mind and you have certainly been feverish.”** The laughter he huffed sounded less sure, however. A ghost of what should have been a merry chuckle.

Slipping on his neatly folded kasaya, he emerged from the stall winding the third, and final, piece around his waist, securing it with an ornate knot that all of the monks, present at the monastery, seemed to adopt. Folding his hands before him, he silently lamented his lack of orbs, it would have given him something to concentrate on now of all times when he needed it the most. Zenyatta’s eyes wandered the meandering path across to where Genji, too, had emerged from the water, cybernetics none the worse for wear, but that bandage upon his hand was now sodden and useless.

He pointed to it casually, passing the other man an extra towel - water tended to cling to metal a little better than skin because it couldn’t absorb it - offering, **“You should discard that bandage, I can find you a fresh one from the infirmary, perhaps kit you out with a few useful supplies so you do not need to rely on us so heavily.”**

It can’t have been easy, being what looked like a self-sufficient and very capable person, reduced to a feverish, weak wreck by an infection that had been acquired at no request of his own.  
Zenyatta recalled how helpless he had felt in the days after losing his legs, the despair, the knowledge that he might never walk again, never be able to run, jump, climb or so much as take himself to the bathroom without some sort of aid…yet Genji must have had it so much worse. The monk was thankful, every day, for the omnics who had made him these legs without asking for any payment in return save that he live a life. Well, he was certainly doing that, it was just a case of getting this man, here and now, back on the right path.

 **“Genji?”** The golden-eyed Nepali took a step towards the other, quite obviously debating the wisdom of his next words very carefully. **  
“What happened to you, I do not know why it did, but -”** Those images flickered through his mind again, the lake, the dragon, the man laying dismembered in a welling pool of his own blood as another, shrouded in shadow but for the blade that had dropped from his shaking, blood-spattered hand, shambled away.  
**“- you will find no peace nor comfort in revenge.”  
**Was the unseen figure the one who had made Genji this way? No…that one had seemed resolute in his task, bloody-minded, yet something about him was off, familiar even. Yet his gait was not that of a person Zenyatta knew.

 **“If you trust nothing or nobody else, trust that.”**  
The younger man swallowed hard, unable to meet the cyborg’s gaze any longer, his own was lost, mind clouded by the thoughts of his own situation and what had been the catalyst for something so much worse. Something that one so dear to him may never forgive themselves for, and the guilt he now carried in response.  
This, the work he did now, was all because of them, he needed to be here, however heartily he yearned to leave, to explore the world beyond these boundaries, beyond Nepal, he couldn’t leave. It wasn’t right.

Zenyatta shook his head abruptly, shaking his focus back into touch with it. The moment seemingly passed, he started for the door, sandals slapping against the wet stone, hoping to the Iris Genji wasn’t about to take him down for his comments before he reached it.  
**“We should head back before they send someone up here to see what is keeping us.”**

* * *

Hearing Zenyatta answer his stupid, stupid question made Genji gasp and then a deep frown settled on his face. Was there more to the older monk and his pupil than met the eye, if his name was the first one to pop into Zenyatta’s head when faced with such a…suggestive question? Shaking his head and cursing beneath his breath, Genji wanted to punch himself. Even if that would be the case who was he to judge or think more of it? He was a stranger in these halls.

Listening to the shuffling behind him Genji focused back on his legs still in the warm water, not daring to turn around and embarrass the monk and himself any further. His legs are fully mechanical, no warmth seeping into tight muscles anymore, only heating the metal slightly.

Having nothing to focus on, his mind once again began to wander. With his mind feeling clearer than it had before and his lungs not feeling as dry and irritated, he thought back to what Zenyatta had told him.  
He also had been attacked, assaulted as Genji had been…

Cursing when his mind betrayed him with the images from his nightmare instead of staying focused on what Zenyatta had told him, Genji sucked air in between his clenched teeth. The sea of blood that had been a prominent feature in his nightmare suddenly appearing in front of him, the water turning red and in a moment of panic the cyborg scooted backwards quickly, pulling his legs from it and watching the blood drip from them.

Pushing his eyes closed, forcing his mind to stay with him, to not pull him back into the nightmarish images and memories that were threatening to assault his senses he lamented over the words of the monk. Was this the fever haunting his senses or was he broken…going insane from the past he had to live through.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath when he heard the wooden door to the stall creak slightly when it was pushed open again, he tried to calm himself. Genji didn’t want to make the monk worry about him any more than he already had. Opening his eyes slowly, only to see the red mass in front of him and the drops of blood… _water!_ – his mind screamed at him – on his legs he took a shuddering breath hearing the footsteps stop next to him. Turning towards Zenyatta slightly he took the towel from his outstretched hand, pulling it around his upper body and tapping away at the wetness on his human skin first.

Touching the wet bandage in his palm he pushed slightly against it to test the amount of pain he would still be under, hissing in pain and digging his finger a little stronger against it. The wound had been sewn shut surely, he did not need such a big bandage, only something to keep the wound from getting dirty.

Pushing himself up to a stand, swaying slightly when his body moved too fast for his brain to catch up with, he moved his head to face Zenyatta when the monk called his name. The words that followed punching the air from Genji’s lungs.  
How could the monk know, or just assume, what would be best for Genji and what not?! He had no idea about what had happened to Genji so how dare he have the audacity to speak to him about revenge! What did he know?!

The anger quickly rose inside of Genji, making his heart begin to beat faster and heat pool in his chest watching the monk turn and walk away from him, towards the door they came in. Something in the way the man held himself snapped Genji out of the rising emotions in his body, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted even though he had not yet been awake for that long. There was a tightness in Zenyatta’s shoulders…was it fear to turn his back on Genji? The thought pierced Genji’s heart like a shard of ice, making him shiver and realize that from the way he had acted until now it wasn’t unlikely that the monk was…weary of him, if not afraid even.

Carefully rubbing the towel over his skin, hair and the cybernetics of his upper body he carried it with him until he arrived at the stall Zenyatta had just been in. Unsure of where to leave the wet towel he dropped it to the floor next to the door to the stall.

His body and especially his hair weren’t dry, not by far and Genji had the passing fear inside his mind about what would happen if he stepped outside now with water still clinging to the joint in his legs and between the plating of his upper body. He wouldn’t be outside long enough for it to freeze but if it cooled down too much it might surely hurt the delicate human skin beneath the synthetic one or damage the joints, the metal still a little warm from the water.  
He needed to dry himself properly as soon as he reached his room again and Zenyatta had left for his daily tasks…the many blankets in his room would be sufficient for the task.

 **“We should return yes…”** , Genji murmured when he reached Zenyatta’s side, right at the main door, already feeling the cold breeze against his human skin, making him grimace and shiver slightly. He was happy to leave the baths behind, the red water still haunting his mind and his body aching for rest again. 

Following Zenyatta carefully back down the way that they had come from, he was feeling stronger at the beginning of their walk but soon Genji had to realize that the lingering wetness in his joints combined with the icy cold made everything more difficult. His skin began to feel like pins and needles when the warm skin was caressed by the cold wind of the mountains and his legs felt wobbly beneath his body.

Genji made sure to not let Zenyatta notice any of his struggles, following the monk slowly back to his room and breathing a sigh of relief once they reached the hallway that Genji recognized as the one they had exited the monastery through earlier.

Collapsing heavily on his cot once they reached his room, it was warm from a small fire burning in the fireplace, Genji fiddled with the soaked and now very cold bandage around his hand, pulling it off and looking at the neat stitches Fon had placed in his skin. His head felt weightless, a nice change from the pounding headache from before but still a sure sign of the fever still wrecking his body. His hair was hanging into his face, still moist and now cold from the air outside, surely that had not made his cold…infection…whatever it was his body was fighting any better.

 **“I am sure you have lost enough time already taking me to the baths…you should go to breakfast”** , Genji murmured, looking at Zenyatta and thinking to himself about the studying Zenyatta had mentioned before…with Mondatta. A frown pulled his face together when the thought crossed his mind and he pushed it away with a low grunt. Reaching for the blankets on his cot, putting one over his metal legs, wrapping the other tightly around his upper body, allowing the shivers to shake his body.

 **“I shall…rest”** , the cyborg mumbled, indeed feeling exhaustion beginning to cling to his body but not planning on allowing himself to sink into the cot and attempt sleep quite yet. He had to take care of his body…as much as he hated it, he needed it to function. There was no one here that would be able to fix him up if he ruined one of the cybernetics. And since he wasn’t sure about what to do with himself after the infection was cured, he needed his body to work…if he decided to end it all after that, so shall be it. Attempting revenge on his brother, seeking him out and fighting him would be as much of a suicide than running into the mountains now.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Genji thinking about self-harm/suicide

The walk back was wrought with the need to bundle up - it always was bracing, even in the summer months - so Zenyatta could just imagine how it felt to Genji. Sometimes, he was thankful for his lack of hair, the peach fuzz atop his scalp providing just enough warmth and nowhere near enough cover to remain wet for very long. Soon enough, they reached the monastery and with it, the infirmary.

Along the way, the monk had picked up on the subtle shifts in his companion’s aura, the awkward way in which he had reacted to his very serious response, perhaps expecting something to the contrary? Zenyatta would have preferred to let Genji believe the jovial and even flirtatious nature of the comments the cyborg had passed at him had flown way over his head.  
After all, why would Genji be speaking such comments to him of all people, most assumed, that as the monks of old, the entirety of their order was celibate. For the most part, that was true, but there had been occasions, rumours that circulated around the monastery of brothers within their order falling for outsiders, for vanishing into the swirling mountain mists and never returning.  
Not that this was what Zenyatta had ever entertained, because that was not what was happening here, was it?

 **“Of course.”** , he replied to Genji’s declaration of rest, still rummaging around for those clean, dry wound dressings.   
**“Enough exercise for one day. You do sound far better than the day we found you, however. It is my hope that we can find you somewhere more suitable to stay soon.”**

Zenyatta’s hand plucked a still-packaged bandage from the nearby shelf, tearing the top off the packet in a clean, fluid movement.  
 **“Not that I am trying to get rid of you.”**   
Pivoting back to face the room, he handed the partially unravelled bandage to Genji, not wishing to patronize the man’s ability to tend to his own wounds in such a minor way.  
 **“But I imagine you would appreciate some privacy, along with a far more comfortable mattress than this.”**   
One hand reached back to palm the lower curvature of his spine, rubbing sympathetically. He would not mind one himself.

There was something quite therapeutic about watching the other wind that strip of fabric around his injured hand, the long, deliberately tense motions as mechanical fingers manipulated the bandage between it, never catching within the intricate, perfectly designed components. That hand was far more advanced than the cybernetics he possessed, his legs being the most basic, he supposed, possibly reconditioned omnic parts.

How long he had stood there, unmoving, just watching the other, sunlight flaring as it caught on Genji’s shoulder, he was not sure. But the realization that he had been staring for slightly longer than was appropriate hit Zenyatta hard enough to startle.  
He snapped to attention, hands meeting in the middle of his mass to clap lightly, a signal that he was about to do exactly what he had intended all along.  
 **“Right, so, I suppose I will go to breakfast then.”**   
Food didn’t really strike him as appetizing right now, he had too much food for thought to be concerned with eating.   
**“Rest well, Genji. I will see you this evening.”**

Closing the door behind him, after he had stepped from the room, Zenyatta, dallied a moment on the other side of the wooden barrier, head awash with thoughts as he caught his breath.  
What had happened up there at the baths? It seemed that for a moment, a very small moment, he had actually managed to break through the fortified wall that Genji had placed around himself, the one that had been keeping any of them from reaching most rational parts of him since his arrival. But as quickly as Zenyatta had glimpsed it, Genji had buried it under a wealth of awkwardness and potentially faux indifference.

 _Mondatta will be expecting you._  
True, he thought, he was already running late by simply heading to the baths and lingering there to talk with Genji some more. No doubt, his master would wish to know what they had discussed, any new information that could clue them to what life this man had lived before, how best to integrate him into the flow of things, should he wish. This monastery was a sanctuary to all who needed it, but not at the cost of shattering the peace detrimentally. 

Without further hindrance, the young monk headed off to the food hall, he would make that quick stop and then find Mondatta after, he would understand, or so he hoped. But perhaps it was best if he kept back a little of what had been discussed, at least until Zenyatta, himself, had worked out what it meant for him.

*****

 **“I must admit, I was beginning to think you had absconded with our guest.”  
** Mondatta stated as a rushed and harassed appearing Zenyatta finally breezed his way into the library.

It had taken the younger monk a solid twenty minutes to locate his master, who, rather than having Zenyatta tidy up the place in penance for tardiness, was sat, full lotus on a pile of stacked mats, a large, leather-bound, book stretched open across his lap.  
The master did not look up.  
Zenyatta tilted his head curiously, attempting to catch a glimpse of the current page. Eyes squinting against the lamplight in the darkened nook, the gently bobbing flame illuminated enough of the text to be discernible.

**“The dragon of the north wind?”**

Mondatta’s dark eyes flicked up to meet his student’s face, hands deftly replacing the woven silk bookmark a second before he closed the tome with a hefty thump. Dust particles expelled by the sudden rush of air danced like fireflies glinting against the light.  
 **“A little light reading, nothing more”** , he said, disparaging. But it was not enough to capture Zenyatta’s attention. 

No, his eyes were drawn to the title scrawled across the cover, cracked and aged in flaking golden ink. It was an interesting choice.  
 **“Aren’t you a little old for myths and legends, master?”  
** The elder monk clicked his tongue, disapprovingly waving off Zenyatta’s gentle dig at his choice of ‘fiction’.  
 **“All myths and legends have a kernel of truth, a reason for being.”**

Zenyatta still hadn’t met his gaze. He was a tenacious student at the best of times, but his quest for the meaning in all things often made him blind to everything else around him. Just one in a few kinks he would have to iron out before his student progressed.  
Mondatta set the book aside, tucking it just out of sight behind himself.  
 **“But enough philosophy for now. How is our guest?”**

Finally, and much to the relief of the elder, Zenyatta appeared to snap out of his current thoughts and into the present, a sudden clarity returning to the young man’s eyes.  
 **“Doing better, I think…”** Could Mondatta tell? He wondered, tell that he was flustered. **“I took him to the baths earlier when I knew the others would be at breakfast, I thought he would prefer the quiet.”**

The elder monk inclined his head, sagely. That was probably for the best, for now, Genji didn’t appear to appreciate too many visitors. Understandable, given what he had learned of his past. Of course, poor Zenyatta was still navigating that minefield blind, it wasn’t fair, but he had given his word.

 **“I am certain he appreciated it, yet I sense a but coming on.”** Mondatta prompted.  
Zenyatta huffed a breath, there most certainly was a ‘butt.’ And that hadn’t been all that had caught Genji’s attention either.  
 ** _“My legs_** **…he didn’t know about my legs.”  
** Quick thinking on his part, and not a single word of a lie. That did not stop him blundering on carelessly though, and by the time that Zenyatta was done, it was too late to realize his mistake. **  
“It seemed to take him aback, I spoke a little about how - ….” **

Mondatta hadn’t moved a muscle, nor shifted, nor so much as even blinked. But he knew, _oh Iris_ Zenyatta knew how much that day haunted the unflappable Shambali leader.  
 **“H-how… Well, I think he might be opening up to me.”**

If ever there had been a time for the ground to swallow him up, Zenyatta wished for it now. Yet Mondatta gave no sign of disapproval, no hint that he was upset with his student. That much, at least, settled the churning of his stomach a little.

 **“I am glad to hear it. It will be many weeks, perhaps months before he is ready to start facing his demons, I fear. But come, I intend to go to the village today and find him somewhere more comfortable to stay.”  
** Rising, Mondatta adjusted the fall of his ornate robes, dusting them down with the flat of his palm. **  
“I dare say he is already tired of Fon henpecking him.”**

* * *

Genji watched Zenyatta rummage through different parts of the small room, finally turning back towards him with a small package in his hands. It was clear in the way the monk held himself that his mind was occupied with thoughts…thoughts that had to do with Genji, the cyborg assumed as he watched Zenyatta tear open the bandage package and handing it to him.

He couldn’t help the flicker of a smile that crossed his lips when the monk clarified his words, not wishing to create a misunderstanding between the two of them. Taking the bandages from Zenyatta he thanked him with a small nod.

Pulling the bandage out entirely Genji began to carefully wrap it around his hand, covering the freshly stitched wound with precise movements.

 **“I feel…better. My head is clearer”** , Genji replied, not wanting to create another of their awkward silences that tended to fall between the two of them, much to Genji’s fault he had to admit. He didn’t care for a more comfortable mattress, the cot he had been sleeping on was already an improvement to the surfaces he had slept upon while he was on the road.  
He couldn’t even remember the number of times he had simply slept on the floor of some forgotten shrine, or in the back of an alley, staying half-awake throughout the entire night in fear of an assault.

 **“A cot like this is really all I need…”  
** Methodically Genji continued and finally finished wrapping up his hand, feeling the monks eyes on him throughout it all, Zenyatta was most likely lost in thought because he had not noticed Genji glancing up at him from time to time. Whatever it was that was occupying the man’s thought…it must be something big if he was so unfocused. The cyborg swallowed heavily, hoping his behaviour in the bath did not cause the sudden shift in Zenyatta.

The monks sudden startle brought Genji out of his train of thoughts, finishing the knot of the bandage and lowering both his hands on the blanket in his lap, looking up at Zenyatta, who was already on his way towards the door.

 **“See you…later…”** , Genji murmured softly after the door had already been closed from the other side, his gaze lingering on the old wood. His entire morning had already been so different from anything that he had ever experienced before, his mind was having problems catching up with him.

He was shivering and pulling the blanket a little tighter around himself when the images of the water in the baths turning into blood flickered in front of his inner eye. Shaking his head slightly to try and clear his mind, Genji pressed his eyes shut, groaning. Why was his mind constantly working against him in such a way?  
Constantly bringing up his past, his memories of a time in which Genji had been happy still, still complete. Just to destroy it all with making him relive his fight and the many horrible months that had followed. But all too present was the scene of his dream that was still haunting him…the roar of his dragon.  
Just thinking about him made his chest clench painfully as if the point from which the spirit had been torn from his soul ached and bled once more.

Suddenly all his senses filled with dread, his body tensing and his arm shaking from gripping the edge of the blanket so strongly. Loneliness washed over him, like a wave suddenly crashing into him when he didn’t hear anything or anyone around him. No voices, not even the sounds of birds around him – and the silence within him…proving once again that he was truly alone in this world.

Having had Zenyatta and Mondatta, even Fon, around him these last two days had shown to Genji that there are humans…and omnics…that didn’t judge people for their looks. Zenyatta having prosthetics himself certainly made it easier for him.  
But what about the other monks in the monastery? The men who had attacked Zenyatta had been fellow monks…who knew if people would accept Genji as openly in their ranks or act like those three that had attacked Zenyatta?

Curling in on himself when the painful ache of loneliness threatened to overwhelm him Genji tried to calm himself with deep breaths. Only the slight itch below his plating and on his skin broke the downward spiral Genji’s mind had taken, reminding him about the fact that there was still his body that he needed to take care of, as much as he hated it.

Pulling the blanket from his legs, he put it next to him on the cot as he begins methodically working on the fastenings of his legs, pulling off the entire prosthetic and putting it down next to him before reaching for another one of the blankets Mondatta had brought him the previous night. Removing plating after plating on the leg and drying the joints he concentrated on his work, pushing everything else to the back of his mind. Only the disgust lingered strongly at the front of his mind, with every movement, every touch to his own body that proved to him once again that he was more machine than human he felt sicker.

Finishing the one leg and attaching it back to the stump of his upper leg, he continued with the second before moving on to the plating on his abdomen and back and finishing the whole process with drying his arm.

By the time Genji was done he felt exhausted both mentally and physically and after glancing outside through the window near his cot, seeing that the sun was already standing high in the sky he dropped the wet blanket next to the cot and picked up the two dry ones, wrapping himself up into them and finally allowing his body to rest…while his mind didn’t seem to be able to find any.

Turning over to lie on his back, staring at the stones that made up the ceiling of his little room, his thoughts went the same circle over and over, showing him memories and images that made Genji’s heart ache or his chest clench.  
He felt so tired and yet sleep wouldn’t claim him…frustration and agitation growing stronger inside of him instead. Huffing and turning over in the cot for the millionth time Genji closed his eyes, a dry sob leaving his lips as tears began to well up inside his eyes and slowly finding their way down his temple.

All he wanted was to sleep…and to stop remembering the past!  
The headache and coughing that the bath had pushed into the background and soothed had returned fully by now and after a particularly bad attack of coughs Genji curled up into a ball on the bed, suddenly hearing something fall to the ground.

Sitting up slowly he watched Zenyatta’s orb slowly roll a few centimetres away from the bed. Genji had completely forgotten about the golden orb and the fact that Mondatta’s charging from last night would still be able to soothe him now if Genji was to believe Zenyatta’s words.

Pushing his aching body up to balance on his elbow he leaned down to reach for the orb, enjoying the warmth that spread through him the second he touched the metal. Pulling it close to his chest and lying back down on the cot Genji sighed deeply when he felt the warmth spread through his body. Curling around the little object as if it was his greatest treasure, he closed his eyes, focusing on the soothing feeling and finally drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Mondatta was keeping his metaphorical cards close to his chest. Zenyatta had been watching him throughout their entire exchange and not once had he truly relinquished the book of myths and legends.  
He pawed at, caressed, leaned on, clutched at it and every other manner of not quite letting contact slip him by, but his most profound reaction - actually picking it up - only seemed to happen whenever Zenyatta loomed too close to the aged tome.

This would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so ridiculous. How old were they? Too old to be playing a silent game of cat and mouse. Eventually, Zenyatta thought, his master would need to put the book down, and when he did, he would be in there, nose buried deep in the pages, discovering all there was to know about this dragon of the north wind. Could it be that Mondatta was finally warming to the idea that the dream he had witnessed had more meaning than the older monk was willing to divulge?

 **“You are losing them again”** , Mondatta’s voice lilted softly from across the room.  
Zenyatta sat up a little straighter, an errant student caught with his fingers in the biscuit tin. His remaining eight orbs bobbed and dipped, dramatically, in the air around him.  
 **“Hmm?”  
** Mondatta clicked his tongue, disapproving, a finger waggling in the general direction. **“Your orbs, your lapse in concentration betrays you. Are you certain you had enough sleep last night?”**

The student dipped his head, a silent and expressionless wince. He had slept, far better than the night before that, and with it had come a deep, dreamless rest, snug and warm, the embrace of the Iris surrounding him. But that did not mean Mondatta was incorrect.  
Blanching, a deep duskiness began to creep up his neck, threatening to spider its way up his face too.

Unsurprisingly, Mondatta let lose a small chuckle, clever and amused. Sometimes, it was like the older man could see into the other’s soul, Not a prospect Zenyatta wanted to consider as anything but a fantasy when he was considering deliberately snooping on his master’s business.

 **“Apologies, Master, I did.”,** That would not suffice, **“I - I was just thinking about Genji.”**

They had both spent the afternoon discussing his dream at length, and while Mondatta had certainly taken into account every last detail, nodding and umm-ing and ahh-ing where appropriate, the older monk had not furnished any of his thoughts with a single scrap of detail. No rhyme, no reason, leaving his student perplexed, to put it mildly.  
The warmth of Mondatta’s guiding hand slipped reassuringly across Zenyatta’s shoulder.  
 **“You are quite taken with him, aren’t you?”**

In unison, the orbs hit the floor, their soft, melodic, chiming a cacophony of chaotic rings and clanks that stilled the blood and tensed muscle reflexively. Zenyatta’s voice caught in his throat, a dry, rasping cough wishing to find egress in its place. He barely managed the whispered. **“What?”**

 **“The mystery of it all. It has been some time since we had a visitor, much longer a guest. I had a feeling that placing you at the forefront of his healing would be the linchpin you required to progress.”**   
Mondatta enthused, a little confused by his student’s rather abrupt moment of chaos.   
**“I think it will be good for you, I mean no criticism…But let us not repeat the incident of the first night, shall we? Known and practised methods only until you are ready.”**

The younger monk’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated to pinpricks of darkness amid the surround of umber and burnt gold. Mondatta hadn’t meant what his initial thoughts had assumed, and he had been so quick to prepare himself for denial that now, in the light of the truth, he was laid bare, caught, trapped and left floundering for words to speak.  
None of this made any sense to Zenyatta, adrenaline and heated embarrassment fueling his verbal constipation.  
The older man leaned in a little, turning the younger man to face him fully, dark eyes scrutinizing his student’s face.

 ** _“Zenyatta?”_**   
That ever-present, reassuring hand squeezed his shoulder once more.   
**“Tell me you have not attempted to commune with the Iris in such a way again.”**

Now, more than ever, Zenyatta wished he had been paying attention to his practices. What could be the lesser of two evils here? He could lie and claim that he had, indeed, dabbled in the power he had barely glimpsed in those terrifyingly wonderful moments two days ago, or he could tell the truth, that it was Genji’s comments, his actions and mannerisms that, for the tiniest of moments, had him in a complete daze.  
The younger man bowed his head, defeated. Sacrifices would have to be made.  
 **“I…I am sorry, master.”**

That hand, so sure, so steadfast and comforting, slid heavily away from his shoulder, the sound of a palm gently slapping the taut skin of a forehead resonating from somewhere not far before him. But Zenyatta could not look up, he couldn’t afford to. One glimpse would be enough to prove that the reasons he had given were fabricated and what was more, he could not provide a truthful reason as to _why_ he had chosen to lie.

**“Must I remind you what could happen if you were to pass into the halo of the Iris?”**

Here they went, thought Zenyatta, fingers fumbling with the sash of his kasaya, eager for something to do lest his hands begin shaking nervous and irritated, Mondatta’s lecturing was about to begin. And just so, the guilt now flooding his thoughts, his body, making his heart ache with having to have lied at all. It was too late to take it back now and far better than explaining that Genji had noticed his legs. A reminder of what he had sacrificed, of what _Mondatta_ had sacrificed, just so his student could be here, now, alive and well, would be worse than just one little white lie.

 **“It won’t happen again.”  
** He would shoulder that burden if only so Mondatta didn’t have to shoulder the truth.

*****

Hours passed in awkward silence the levity of his mentor’s disappointment felt throughout. And by the time that Zenyatta traipsed his way along the narrow hall towards the infirmary, a bowl of piping hot dal-bhat-tarkari resting upon the tray he carried, the young monk’s body was crying out for the sanctity of sleep.

Nudging the door open with the side of his foot, he neglected to knock this time. Fatigue had long since taken the place of care and attention, and the only too brief nod he gave in greeting to Genji was a sign enough that he had had more than his fair share of tasks for one day.  
Setting the tray down beside the rickety cot, Zenyatta gratefully slumped back on to its adjacent twin, head lolling listlessly whilst he peered at Genji through soft, partially interlaced, eyelashes.

 **“The dal is good today, Ahri made it. I thought you would want some”** , he murmured, only too tempted to flop back and stretch his limbs out for an impromptu nap himself.

His penance, so to speak, had come in the form of more than his usual share of the chores. Possibly, Zenyatta had suspected, to tire him out so he would not attempt to commune with the Iris as he had lied about earlier. He had to smirk at that, it was exactly the sort of thing Mondatta would do - along with the nightly check on him later. If the older monk didn’t think he had noticed that, every night since he had returned to the temple after his…accident, then he was woefully mistaken. Mondatta worried, he cared, and that was enough to keep Zenyatta on the straight and narrow.

 **“And.”  
** One elaborately patterned hand gestured in the direction of the dim glow of his missing orb. **“I will need to charge that for you if you wish? It seemed to be helping you rest.”**

It might have been an idea to charge one for himself, but one alone would, doubtless, send him off to sleep right where he sat.  
Placing it between his hands, he prepared to begin, bleary-eyed and weary, his comprehension fading fast.

* * *

Genji’s day passed both incredibly fast and in moments frustratingly slow.  
When he had first woken up from the dreamless sleep he had fallen into, the first thing his mind registered was the missing warmth radiating from the metal orb he had been curled up around.  
Letting out a frustrated sigh, agitation already growing inside of him, Genji moved to sit up on the cot. Looking out the window the cyborg tried to guess how much time had passed but he couldn’t see the sun. Setting the orb carefully down on the ground next to his bed, he felt himself get dizzy from leaning over and down. He wasn’t quite healed yet…that would have been too much to ask after such a short time.

Slowly getting up from the cot, Genji managed to walk to the small bathroom attached to his room. Without tripping or hurting himself otherwise he managed to go to the toilet. Noticing the small mirror in the room he stopped to stare at it, breath caught inside his throat and the wild emotions, the agitation and pent up energy starting to boil deep inside his stomach. Leaning heavily on the sink he kept staring at the reflection in the mirror that was supposed to show himself. All he could see were the scars on his face, the dark synthetic material that covered his lower jaw, the way the material covers his neck…one human shoulder and one machine, his chest only half-human anymore.  
The low burn of his emotions slowly started to become a wildfire; red, hot anger flowing through his body as he stared into the eyes of a man that he didn’t recognize as himself. With a shout, Genji raised his cybernetic hand and in a single, swift movement he shattered the small mirror.  
Staring at the shards that collect in the small sink he sees the broken image of himself reflected in them.

 **“This is who I am…broken…only sharp edges…”,** he murmured, reaching for one of the bigger shards with his cybernetic hand, his other hand still wrapped up in the bandage. Suddenly everything seemed to be silent around Genji.  
Looking into the mirror-shard Genji almost dropped it as just for a moment someone else, _something else_ , seemed to be looking back at him. A green eye framed by the most beautiful of shimmering scales in almost the same colour…as soon as the cyborg blinked though the image was gone and all he saw were his own red glowing eyes – the colour of fresh blood.

Turning the shard in his hand Genji pondered over the possibilities this little piece of glass could offer him. He could finally end it all now. But…was he even able to kill himself like this? Would he even bleed out like a normal human might if he cut his skin deep enough?  
Raising the sharp tip of the shard, he pressed it lightly against the synthetic skin on his neck, feeling the pressure of it…the possibility right there – he was so tired still. So tired even though all he had done was sleep.

Keeping the shard at his neck for a moment longer, a moment in which time itself seemed to stop and focus just on him, Genji felt his hand begin to shake and with a frustrated snarl he hurled the shard into the sink, watching it shatter.

Why was he not able to do it? There was nothing left for him here! Just a couple of days ago he would have embraced death willingly so what had changed now? Could it be that the mere presence of a couple of monks was enough to change his mind?  
 _Zenyatta.  
_ His traitorous mind provided him with the answer to his question but Genji pushed it away just as he pushed himself away from the sink, walking back to his cot.

It wasn’t about any of the other monks…there were just two…one…that kept pushing Genji and at the same time didn’t push at all. It was frustrating, the way in which Zenyatta seemed to understand him even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Falling back down on his cot with a frustrated huff of air that made his lungs protest with a fit of coughs, he turned his body to stare out of the window. There was nothing to do for him here…Mondatta hadn’t left any of the books behind for him that he had carried with him last night. He felt…agitated, ready to ignite but with nothing here to focus his energy on. He was in no shape whatsoever to work-out or even take a walk.  
A knock on his door startled Genji out of his thoughts and he turned himself towards it, calling out to whoever was standing outside, that they may enter.

 **“Good day, Genji”** , the omnic greeted him with his cheerful voice and a small wave of his hand. Without waiting for a reply from Genji, Fon walked inside his room, looking around shortly before settling his gaze back on Genji.

 **“I hope you have been well after your…accident last night”** , he spoke, motioning towards the bandage on Genji’s hand.  
 **“I see that someone changed the bandage already. I assume Zenyatta has already been with you this morning then?”**

Genji nodded shortly, picking at the bandage around his hand, not wanting to speak about spending the morning in the baths with Zenyatta. If Fon didn’t know about his little walk this morning, then it would stay that way.

**“Surely you have eaten breakfast already then? Do you require something for lunch? The others are currently enjoying a light lunch, surely I could go and grab a plate for you if you wish?”**

Genji looked up at the omnic now standing in front of him and forced a small smile on his lips, pushing away his earlier dark thoughts. Realizing that he hadn’t eaten a single thing today, Genji decided that this was also a fact Fon didn’t need to know or else the omnic would fuss even more and maybe even give Zen a talk about not caring well enough for their guest.

 **“I am fine, thank you. There is no need…I do not feel hungry”  
** After the omnic told Genji how he should take care of his wound and definitely try and get some air, the day was such a beautiful one after all, he was on his way out of the room when an idea popped up in Genji’s mind.

 **“Could you…bring me something to read? Anything really…”** , Genji spoke up, stopping the omnic in his tracks just as he wanted to exit the room. The omnic turned towards him and after a few questions about what kind of reading Genji preferred the omnic hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him, seemingly eager to finish this errand job even though his daily tasks needed attendance.

Genji relaxed once the omnic had left his room and waited more or less patiently for the omnic to return before he could fully wind down. It didn’t take that long until he heard a soft knock on his door and Fon entered again, this time with a small stack of books in his arms that he settled next to Genji’s cot. The cyborg thanked Fon with a small bow and waited for him to leave before looking at the books he had brought him.  
Genji picked out one of the books, choosing it purely by the look of its cover and settled back on the cot, pulling the blankets back around him. He soon got lost in the story written on the old paper, forcing his mind to concentrate on the words in front of him instead of the thoughts still swirling inside his mind.

He didn’t realize when his head became heavy and it dropped down, falling asleep on top of the pages but soon rolling over on his side and leaving the book on the side of his cot. His body taking the rest it needed even though his sleep was restless and again pictures and memories haunted him.

*****

The clattering of a tray being put on the stones next to his cot made Genji startle awake, sitting up on his cot, body tense and hand moving below his pillow but finding the place empty. Slowly his mind woke enough for him to realize where he was and he blinked at Zenyatta, who has by now settled on the second cot in the room. Forcing his breathing to calm and his heartbeat to slow down again, riding the wave of panic slowly until it left his body.

The smell of food suddenly hit Genji’s nose and his stomach growled in response, after all, he had not eaten since last night and even if his appetite was lacking he could not refuse to eat when Zenyatta had clearly gone through the effort of fetching him a portion and bringing it to him. The man looked exhausted and Genji wondered why that was the case…what had he been doing all day that he was this tired now? What kind of studying had he been doing all day?

Swallowing the thoughts that kept rising up inside his mind, he instead put his feet over the edge of the cot and reached for the tray of food. If only he could taste it and experience if it was as good as it smelled.

Picking up the spoon he slowly began eating the offered food, watching Zenyatta out of the corner of his eyes. For a moment silence settled between them, the only sound being the soft clank of the spoon hitting the bowl whenever Genji filled it up again.

The pictures of his nightmares were still fresh inside his mind when Zenyatta spoke again…indeed the orb seemed to keep the worst at bay and with the fever not clouding his head as badly as before, he might actually be able to rest well for the first time in…Genji didn’t even know when the last time had been that he had slept peacefully without the constant fear of being attacked or of having nightmares accompanying him.

Looking up to see Zenyatta recall the orb from where it had been sitting idle next to the cot, the soft golden glow soon illuminating the monk’s tired face.

 **“They…keep the nightmares at bay, yes”** , Genji replied softly, settling the spoon in the bowl after he finished as much as he was able to force his body to accept. Setting down the tray on the ground again he reached for the book that he had fallen asleep on, closing it after remembering the page he had been on and putting it back on the small stack next to his cot.

 **“Fon came visiting me…earlier. He’s brought me these”** , Genji explained after he saw Zenyatta follow his movements and raising his eyebrow slightly as he spotted the small stack of books.

The cyborg watched Zenyatta for a moment, the monk’s gaze not moving from the books and every time he blinked it seemed to take longer until his eyes opened again. How could the young man be so tired from just a day’s work? And why was he even here when he was so tired? To make sure that he hasn’t fled? That he hasn’t killed himself?  
At that Genji glanced towards the small door to the bathroom…the shards of the mirror still lying in the sink.  
Had Mondatta ordered him to check up on him…and did Zenyatta know by now who Genji was?

**“Why…why are you here?”**

* * *

Through tired eyes, Zenyatta regarded the orb, then Genji, gaze flicking back to the orb again. It hadn’t occurred to him that the other had been experiencing the nightmares as a repeat occurrence, placing the extreme fatigue down to physical symptoms of the infection he was fighting. Zenyatta knew how Genji felt, he had felt those first hand and just once had been more than enough. Repressing a shudder, he tried to focus on the orb, mind muddied and heavy with the weight of his own fatigue. It was nothing compared to what the other man was going through, he repeated like a mantra, therefore, he must recharge the orb, if only to help for the night.

**“I’m sorry, I did not know they still afflicted you.”**

The orb was ringing now, pleasant and true, the golden glow from within only highlighting how sallow he looked in complexion, how dark the circles beneath his bleary eyes had become. Mondatta would return in the morning to rouse him for meditation, it was good practice, so the older monk had often said, and Zenyatta knew he would not be awake for it. The evening’s practice was optional, however, and he found the thought of curling up right here and taking a well-deserved nap, more than enticing.

**“Here - “**

He passed the orb across to Genji, thoughts still cloaked, thickly, in the warm haze of impending sleep, when the question was posed to him: _“Why are you here?”  
_ Those golden eyes suddenly drew focus, for what had to have been the first time since he arrived, pupils narrowing, attentive.  
 **“What?”**   
It hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, the bite at the end of his word softened by the gentler way he intoned the follow-up.  
 **“I came to bring you something to eat, to see how you are recovering. Mondatta placed me in charge of your healing and it would be irresponsible of me to forget about you when you are so unwell.”**

Yes, that was it, Zenyatta continued to dupe himself into believing that Mondatta, himself, wouldn’t have followed this up were he unable, that Fon wouldn’t have made him rest and tended to Genji himself. Somehow, coming here in spite of everything seemed _right_.  
But what if Genji didn’t want him here? His presence had caused such an incomprehensible attitude towards him earlier, and evoked equally strange embarrassment within himself, that a certain awkwardness had suddenly planted itself firmly between them.  
 **“If my presence bothers you, I can..”** Zenyatta waved a hand, listlessly, in the direction of the door.

Yet he hoped, silently, that Genji wouldn’t send him away, this cot was surprisingly comfortable and he had been running around all afternoon tidying up the library in the wake of his master’s disappointment. Time to think, time to focus was all he had sought and yet now, when he could finally find some respite, all he wished to do was feel absolutely nothing at all. Being dead to the world for a few hours sounded heavenly right now.  
The young monk ran a hand back over his shaven scalp, his other digging the knuckles of two fingers in against the fulcrum of his eye sockets, applying relieving pressure gently. A sigh heaved, Zenyatta’s shoulder slumped back, head lolling, face upturned towards the ceiling as if he could find all the answers to his problems written on the stones above their heads.

 **“I’m sorry”** , he said, easing a tired cluck of a chuckle through a lazy jaw.  
 **“I’ve been so busy today I… _nnhh_ , I’m so tired.”  
**As impressions went, he was sure he was giving off a great one. The last thing Genji needed was a tired healer poking around the room he was supposed to find sanctuary and peace within. Although, admittedly, at a glance, Genji was far from at peace.

He eased himself back onto the cot, long limbs stretching out, easy and with a surprising amount of grace, considering. A simple tuck and a twist and he had oriented himself so that he was laying on it as one might if they were lounging length ways - far more comfortable than laying across the two metal struts that held the fabric ‘sling’ at its centre in place.  
Words had begun to spill from his tongue, nonsensical, fragmented parts of sentences he would not remember in the moments to follow, nor even for days to come, sounds that, to Zenyatta, would have emulated words of comfort, had they been actual words and not just the vague pantomime of their originators. And before the young monk knew what had befallen him, his heavy eyelids slid closed, sleep claiming him.

*****

Mondatta was a creature of habit, his nightly rounds, tending to the monastery shrines, done for the evening, most would be asleep already. As figurehead, he felt it his duty to be the last one to seek rest and the first to rise come morning. And, as usual, he made a point of stopping in to check on Zenyatta before he made for his own room and finally, the rest he needed.

Zenyatta was sometimes found awake, usually when something troubled him enough to remain so. The shared nightmare he had suffered as a result of Genji’s presence here had weighed heavier on the young man than he had let on. Mondatta, attuned to such things, had felt it, long before Zenyatta, himself, had admitted it openly. His student had experienced quite the afternoon for his transgressions, perhaps the master even felt a little guilty for that, but one way or another Zenyatta had to learn. He cared, deeply so, not to lose another among their number by becoming too confident in their ability to commune with the Iris and eventually falling prey to the perils of opening up one’s self to its full potential. It would kill them; he had seen it happen before and had no desire for such a fate to become his student’s.

Around a little past midnight, he cracked open the door to Zenyatta’s room, peering in, expecting to see the warm glow of a lamp, burned down to its last ebbs, shining through the partition. Instead, all that greeted his eyes was the inky darkness of the night and a cold breeze wafting from the window, shutters still open from the morning before.  
Mondatta did not need to look at the bedroll to realize Zenyatta was not there, the icy dread making a frost-lined pit of his stomach. Had he pushed the young man too far?

No, if Zenyatta had left he would have mentioned it, which only made the situation sound worse.  
There had to be a logical conclusion to this - The infirmary, Zenyatta had been helping Genji, he had run there first when the nightmare had invaded his thoughts. There, far more rational, although the latter hardly filled him with optimism.

The Shambali leader was moving through the halls before he had finished that thought, brisk pace quickening with every step, knowing that he shouldn’t feel nearly as anxious as he did and yet that book…  
 _This is absolutely ridiculous, the book was based on myths and legends, you don’t know that any of what was written has an ounce of truth to it. - And yet…_

Turning the corner into the narrow little hallway, the door at the far end being that of the infirmary, Mondatta was forced to slow his pace so as not to appear flapped when he entered. Propping his hand against the wall, he began to regulate his breathing, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling for several, long, seconds through his mouth. The light from the room still burned, casting a welcoming orange glow from beneath the door. There was nothing to worry about, no disturbance could be heard from inside, everything would be fine.

Because it _was_.

Without further ado, he strode to the door and opened it carefully, quietly. The first person he saw was Genji, settled on the edge of his bed, blankets in a crude form of nest around his lower half, staring across the room to where the other cot lay…along with the sleeping form of Zenyatta in it.  
Stretched out as he was, one arm drawn up, the other resting across his chest, it appeared as if the younger monk had simply passed out there and there he would remain. Gently rising and falling was his chest, the occasional soft sigh a clear sign that his dreams, if he were having any, were peaceful and pleasant.  
Genji, though, looked positively entranced, perhaps a little lost, it struck Mondatta as amusing that the expression he could see in those crimson eyes betrayed little but the perplexity that Zenyatta might sleep at all.  
 **“Ah, thank goodness I thought I would be disturbing you, Mr Sh-”  
** The older Monk slid his gaze, sidelong, towards his sleeping student, cognizant of how light he usually slept. **_“Genji._ May I come in?”**

He had no need to ask for entry into a place he was essentially in charge, but Genji was a guest and the comfort of their guests was just as important as the monastery’s usual inhabitants. He slipped through the doorway once the nod was given, stepping to the side of the cot where Zenyatta lay, regarding him with the same consideration Genji seemed to be giving him right as he had opened the door.

 **“I suppose I did work him a little harder than usual today.”**   
A smile lit up the older man’s face, dark eyes rising from the sleeping form to glance at Genji once more.   
**“There was a time when I didn’t think I would ever discover a means to deplete his never-ending source of energy.”  
** Well, he had been spread unusually thin lately. It was a learning curb he wouldn’t long forget.

Mondatta settled upon the edge of the cot, hands folded neatly in his lap as he faced Genji at an angle. **“I trust you were gentle with him?”**

Genji’s face was a picture. One Mondatta took, thankfully, to mean he was confused. Wincing at his ineptitude, the older monk shook his head, more than ready to furnish the details he had neglected to add to his first statement. 

**“The mood he must have been in earlier when he brought you your food. I know his patience must seem boundless but occasionally a little of the _old_ Zenyatta bleeds through.”**   
A click of his tongue, disapproving but well-meaning permeated the silence after the words. **“But before I steal him from you and before Fon arrives to discover us all here and berate me for not properly looking after his _‘little munchkin,’_ I should ask how you are feeling. Zenyatta informs me that the two of you went for a walk.”**  
  


* * *

  
  
Genji watched Zenyatta across from him, noticing the exhaustion that seemed to be rolling off of the man in waves. He had spent most of the day asleep, so he was feeling rather awake right now. And still…the man had come to his room and was recharging the orb that would help Genji find rest again should he feel tired again. It was the only thing that seemed to keep the worst of the nightmares at bay and only his restlessness and smaller nightmares were what woke him throughout the day.

The cyborg took the orb when it was offered to him and only when it was lying in his palm did he feel his shoulder sag and the tension in his muscles slowly fade. But the sudden change in Zenyatta in front of him made Genji wary, his body immediately in defence mode when he heard the harsh tone from the monk.  
The words that follow left Genji to feel rather lost. Of course, he was just another duty on the monk’s long daily list that he had to complete. It was stupid of him to think any differently.  
Shaking his head slightly he turned his head to look anywhere else than at the monk. Why did he care for why the man was here anyway? It wasn’t like he was trying to become friends with him. He wasn’t even sure if he would stay once his lungs weren’t burning as they were, and he has gotten rid of his fever. So why was he feeling the painful pang of disappointment when Zenyatta once again mentioned that he was his duty to take care of…assigned by _Mondatta_.

He wanted to tell Zenyatta to leave! To go back to his room, to sleep or do whatever he was supposed to be doing at this hour. Wanted to tell him that his presence did bother Genji but not for the reasons that Zenyatta would think. He felt lost and afraid with the way he depended on the younger man and his care, the way he started to seek his presence like a moth sought a source of light.  
And he knew he shouldn’t let this happen. No one should ever get close to Genji again, he is a monster after all. That had taken more lives than he could still count and even back in Blackwatch he had turned every offer of friendship or companionship down.  
If he continued to keep to himself, he would never be hurt again. Trusting someone meant giving up a part of one’s soul and Genji’s soul had been shattered and hurt, just like his body, the moment his brother had raised his sword against him.

Opening his mouth to tell Zenyatta to leave, to send him away, he turned back to look at the monk and he closed his mouth again, no sounds coming from the cyborg when he saw the way Zenyatta was digging his knuckles into the sockets of his eyes, his body leaning backwards and his gaze directed towards the ceiling.

The conflict was raging inside of Genji, the urge to send the man away, to push until he staggered and finally left him alone was strong…but seeing him like this?  
Still not saying anything to the man in front of him Genji watched as Zenyatta laid back on the cot, stretching himself and turning so he was facing Genji and yet his eyes were not focused on him anymore, glazed over with sleep, jumbled words coming from his mouth that Genji didn’t understand.

Just as Genji wanted to tell him not to fall asleep here, not with Genji in the same room, his body moving from his cot to shake Zenyatta awake again did he realize that the man had already fallen asleep. His breathing slowing down and becoming deeper, his face relaxing and body sagging into the cot.

Letting out a deep, frustrated sigh Genji tensed when Zenyatta made a soft noise in his sleep at that. Staring at the man in front of him he realized that he was only wearing his robes. Slowly he got up from his cot, reaching down to inspect the many blankets he has lying on it. Looking for one that hasn’t been in contact with his skin or used as a towel before, he picks out one that was the neatest still and carefully walked over to Zenyatta with it. Draping it over the sleeping figure, trying not to make too much noise.

Once Genji was sure Zenyatta was properly covered by the blanket did he settle himself back on his cot arranging the remaining blankets so at least his legs would stay warm.  
He tried going back to reading, placing the golden orb next to his leg. But the smallest noise or rustling from across the room made Genji tense and look up from his book again. Sleep was out of the question with someone in the room with him. He had spent too many nights on the road, fleeing from spies and assassin’s – always ready to strike. And what if he would have another one of those nightmares from which he would wake disorientated and lost? What if he hurt Zenyatta? No. Sleep was not an option!  
And soon he also gave up on reading, his attention not on the book and his body tensing every time the man shifted on the cot.  
Putting away the book again Genji instead concentrated on the man in front of him, getting lost in the way his chest rose slowly and in an even pattern, the occasional twitch of a hand and a sigh leaving his lips whenever he shifted slightly.

The cyborg didn’t notice how much time had passed, forgetting about the world around him when all he focused on was the monk in front of him, as if he was the greatest mystery and held the answers to all of Genji’s questions.  
He didn’t hear the door opening so when he suddenly heard the deep voice of Mondatta from the side he suddenly snapped back to reality in the blink of an eye, flinching and immediately rising from his cot, turning towards the door.

Genji relaxed slightly when his brain caught up with him and he realized it was Mondatta standing in the doorway. Breathing deeply and calming his mind which had gotten into defence mode the moment he had been startled. He flinched at the way Mondatta had first started to address him but he nodded slowly when he asked for permission to enter, using his first name only. He was only a guest here, after all, Mondatta could very well ignore Genji’s wishes…and he had the older monk’s pupil lying in his room. Mondatta had every right to ignore Genji’s wishes and wellbeing and if the man already knew which family he came from…who knew what else he already knew about him…how dangerous he was.

He didn’t settle down on his cot again yet, instead watching Mondatta step closer to the opposite cot. The way the older monk’s face softened as he looked down at Zenyatta made Genji’s breath hitch and his chest feel tight. He staggered slightly when Mondatta turned towards him, telling him about Zenyatta’s earlier days at the monastery.  
The words were ringing in his ears…sounding too much like the things his brother had always told him when he once again hadn’t been able to sit still for a lesson. Or when he ran away from home to in the city.  
The memories took Genji’s breath away, his heart aching inside his chest for a time that was lost forever…now buried deep under layers of hatred and betrayal.

Clenching his cybernetic hand into a fist, his arm shook with the force behind it; he released it briefly to push it against his chest, still struggling to breathe in air.  
He whipped his head towards Mondatta when he heard the man’s next words, a surprised gasp filling the silence between them and freeing Genji’s lungs. His expression was one of pure confusion, eyebrows knit closely together as he stared at the older monk.

His confusion slowly faded as Mondatta elaborated what he had meant with his comment, but his feelings were soon replaced by a simmering, hot wave of…something. Genji frowned at his behaviour, ignoring the question Mondatta had asked of him at first. Why was he feeling jealous of the man sitting across from him? Why did he feel possessive and defensive about the young man lying on the cot? He had no right to interfere with the relationship that was obvious between the two men in front of him and yet…the feelings coiled around him like a snake, taking root and making Genji feel miserable all over again.  
He would never again be able to have anything like the two of them had…not with the state his body was in, the past he carried around and the feeling that he was surely going to kill or be responsible for the death of everyone that he got too close to.

Staring down at his hands and noticing that they had started to shake, Genji quickly balls them into fists, pressing them against his legs to try and hide the turmoil inside of him from Mondatta. The pain it caused in his palm from the cut brought Genji back to reality again. Was the man asking about his well-being as a courtesy, or was he actually interested in how Genji was feeling? Mondatta had not been instructed by anyone else to care for Genji…but maybe he was only asking so he didn’t seem too eager to take Zenyatta away from this room?

 **“I…We did, yes. To the bathhouse a little bit up the mountain. I was beginning to feel rather disgusted with myself so Zenyatta showed it to me”** , Genji explained, choosing deliberately not to reply to the question about his well-being. There was no way he would tell the monk exactly how he felt and lying, telling him that he was feeling fine, a lie he had told so many times before that it did not even feel like lying anymore to Genji, was out of the question in his current state.

Picking on the bandage around his hand idly he looked from Mondatta to the sleeping figure, making sure he was still deep in his slumber before he glanced back at Mondatta.  
 **“I have a request to make…”** , Genji said, taking in a deep breath. He had no idea how Mondatta would take to one of his guests being as bold as demanding something of him but Genji had to try.  
 **“Do not call me by my last name. Ever. Whatever it is you may know about my family, is most likely a lie. Spun by the media or whatever other sources you might have. Whatever you might have heard about me though…”** , Genji stopped to sort his thoughts briefly. Whatever he said next would reveal something about himself, no matter how small. And he had to be careful with what he revealed.  
 **“...whatever you heard…it is most likely true”**

* * *

  
  
Mondatta nodded sagely, appearing to do so as an afterthought, mind casually regarding the sleeping form of the room’s only silent occupant. Zenyatta could have slept through a tornado and woken the day after none the wiser. The gentle rise and fall of his student’s chest, to the restful cant of his head to one side, face partially buried in the generous pillow afforded to patients who found themselves here for the long haul. He had always liked his creature comforts too, and Mondatta could not find enough within himself to chastise his student for clinging to such things, not when he had shown such an enormous aptitude for communicating with the Iris.

 **“Good.”**   
He answered a moment later, at odds with the direction of his gaze. The older monk now turned to look at Genji, body relaxing some, the tension melting away. **  
“I am pleased you were able to venture out. The fresh air will help clear your airways.”**

But it would always be on his mind, for as long as Genji was here, or at least as long as it took to divine if the man was genuine about his reasons for seeking sanctuary. Mondatta believed he was, and Genji, while irritable, stubborn and desperately grasping at straws, had taken the steps necessary to reaffirm he could be trusted. Scepticism was healthy, he had to remind himself, the well-being of those under this roof was paramount. All who resided within these walls were his responsibility. They could handle one man, augmented or not, but a spirit dragon, ripe with the power of ages, was another matter entirely.

Only now did he notice how quiet Genji was being, that in the midst of his haste to reach Zenyatta, he had caught the cyborg in the middle of an act. Not something malevolent, far from it in fact, but a small act of kindness. Rather than wake Zenyatta, Genji had picked himself up, found one of the neatly folded blankets from the storage shelf, and carefully draped it’s warm woollen weight over Mondatta’s student.

The beginnings of a smile began to tug persistently at the corners of Mondatta’s mouth, and here he had believed it would be months before they began to see the changes in their guest when Genji interrupted his warm, hopeful feelings with a request of his own.

The older monk had appeared motionless before, but now it was as if that had been a pale equivalent to the stiff constriction cording the muscles beneath his loose-fitting kasaya.  
 **“I gave you my word, before, that I would say nothing of what I have learned. That still stands, Genji.”  
** And what exactly did that mean: _Most likely a lie?_ That the Shimada clan were not renowned throughout the continent as an organized crime syndicate, that they were not responsible for the trafficking of illegal weapons, goods and of people? Was he to believe that the reports of hundreds of news organizations and investigators were hearsay? His research had led him to much information of that ilk, and they were not nearly as isolated, nor insulated, here as Genji might have believed.

But he had given his word and Genji had begun to show genuine signs of progress. Mondatta could not discount that in light of what he knew now compared to when the man had first arrived. He needed help, shelter and respite. And the Shambali would be the ones to grant it to him.

 **“It would not tarnish his view to know the truth, of that I am certain”** , Mondatta said, quietly observing the nervous twitching of synthetic muscles responding to the tiny electrical impulses gifted to them. **“Zenyatta’s view. But it is not my story to tell any more than it is my student’s place to judge.”**

Lithe hands began to rearrange the fall of his Kasaya, fingertips plucking at the soft, worn fabric, tactile and familiar. He would need to leave soon; his own weariness was beginning to take its toll and he was soon in danger of joining Zenyatta in tandem unconsciousness. Dead to the world for hours sounded like absolute bliss right now, but he could not find it in himself to let go of his tenuous grip on awareness. 

There was much Mondatta would have asked him, about his life, about these truths he hinted at, but divulged no scrap of detail. But he would not push, and the truths that he did know - more accurately one grim, macabre, truth in particular - was better left unspoken for now. It would not have gone over well nor been cathartic, to ask the young man how it was a dead man could rise from the grave and augment himself in such a skilled fashion. Such ineptitude would be beyond offensive and, more than likely, the end of the man’s tenure here ahead of time.

**“However, if you wish to talk, any among us are always open to lending you an ear, the road to healing is never a straight one. By the way, how is your hand?”**

He stood, turning about-face to look down at the sprawled figure on the cot across from Genji’s. What was he going to do about this? It wasn’t healthy to be sleeping in here when Genji was still sick, and Fon would likely skin him alive for just letting Zenyatta be. But the young man was so peaceful and he had more than earned his rest. Well, he _could_ sleep through just about anything, so with that in mind…

 **“I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal him from you for a few hours.”  
** Mondatta bent at the knees, slipping one arm beneath Zenyatta’s legs, the other following suit behind the upper regions of the young monk’s back.   
**“I fear this is my own fault.”**   
Zenyatta had been keeping something from him, and as to what, Mondatta hadn’t been able to pinpoint it. He _would_ get to the bottom of it, eventually, but it was too late in the day to be considering that now.

**“And since today’s excursion has left you none the worse for wear, perhaps consider a walk up to the baths tomorrow, once Zenyatta has brought you your breakfast.”**

In the small matter of a fluid rise, the older monk lifted the younger as he straightened, watching the other’s face intently for fear of having woken him. Zenyatta stirred, mumbling something incoherent, turning in towards his master’s body and attempting to curl up into a more comfortable position. Mondatta loosed a small sigh of relief, now all he had to do was make it back to Zenyatta’s room without further incident.

**“Good night, my friend.”**


	10. Chapter Ten

The night passed without event, no nightmares, no horrific visions from the Iris, it was as if the events of the past few days had never occurred at all. And by the time that Zenyatta awoke, confused and foggy-headed, the sun had risen above the peaks of the mountains, warming the stones next to his bedroll, and he, too, via extension. It was long past the hour at which he should have been awake, and yet Mondatta had not come to wake him. His master was a stickler for punctuality and allowing his student even two seconds past the time he was supposed to be up and ready for the day’s study or chores was as unlikely as snowfall in the most arid of deserts.

Was something wrong?

With an ungainly throwback of the blankets, Zenyatta scrambled to get up, realizing for the first time, his limbs becoming tangled in thick, orange fabric, that he was still fully clothed from the day before. Nearly toppling to the floor again, he expertly caught himself on one hand and one foot, chin hovering centimetres above the hard stone he had nearly cracked his jaw on when there came a loud and pronounced knock on his door. Startled, Zenyatta collapsed sideways, rolling onto the back to avoid being caught on his belly as the door was already opening - there was only one person who rarely forgot about the privilege of personal space.

 **“I knew it!”**   
Came the dulcet, synthesized, tones of an omnic voice.  
 **“As soon as I noticed Mondatta was absent from the morning devotions, I knew you two were up to something.”  
** A beleaguered groan emanated from the man on the floor, flat on his back, hands drawn up to cover and rub at his face.   
**“Good morning to you too, Fon.”**

His mind hadn’t even begun to process the little nugget of information that Fon had stated: Mondatta had not been seen yet, not until the omnic was already launching himself into his next fussing, rant.

**“So, I went to find him, and do you know where he was? He was in _bed!_ In bed at 5 am no less, can you believe it? And now here I find you, also in bed and it is almost midday, Zenyatta.”**

Fon could have warbled on for all eternity, and years ago, Zenyatta had learned to tune out all but key words that resonated with events and importance within himself. So he let him, wildly gesticulating, pointing the finger, bleating on and on about how he was setting a bad example to the initiates, all the while his lassitude was rubbing off on their leader, no less. All words he knew were spoken out of love, yet part of a daily diatribe of fussing that meant he may forever be parented by proxy.

 **“- I had to bring our guest with me.”**   
The omnic looked behind him into the corridor beyond, speaking, first, to the very unseen Genji, and then back to Zenyatta.   
**“Apologies Genji, I do not know what has come over him. Zenyatta? You know he’s been waiting for his breakfast for several hours. Oh, don’t get up, I have seen to it he has been properly nourished and watered, but according to him you were supposed to take him to the baths today.”**

The day had barely begun for Zenyatta, but he was already wishing it were nightfall.  
 **“I did, and I apologize, of course. But I will not take up more of your time, I am sure you have duties you wish to attend to?”  
** Always the best way to be rid of the fussing omnic. Ah, he loved Fon, dearly, but too much Fon was as good for your health as a diet of pure chocolate.

* * *

Genji felt Mondatta’s eyes on him, the sensation as if something was crawling up his spine and settling just at the base of his neck. The older monk knew things about his family but Genji could not be certain as to what exactly he had heard. Was it only about the false front that the Shimada’s tried to still keep up for the public, the perfect, rich family? When everyone already knew they were involved with black market trades and illegal activities of all kinds.

The slow simmering anger and frustration seemed to wash over Genji once again, noticing how Mondatta mulled over his words only agitating him further.  
He turned his head to finally look at Mondatta, his face betraying the turmoil that he was feeling inside but he was simply too tired of hiding anymore to try and school his face into something neutral.

 **“Everyone who knows the truth eventually either leaves…or dies”** , the cyborg replied in a voice completely devoid of emotions. It wasn’t exactly a lie that the people who got to know the truth about him died…only the circumstances in which they died were not always of natural cause. Either they were killed by an assassin of Overwatch because information about the restoration of his body had leaked to the outside or Genji had killed them himself.

Turning his face away again when Mondatta began to smooth his kasaya, Genji balled his hands into fists, pushing them against his legs almost to the point which made his arms begin to shake. The pain in his palm grounding him and keeping him anchored to the present.

Mondatta’s next words made Genji scoff instinctively and he only realized that he let the sound out when Mondatta stood, fearing that he offended the monk he moved himself to look up at him. There was no judgment on the monk’s face and Genji moved his gaze back to Zenyatta, watching the younger man’s peaceful face.  
There was no way that he would burden anyone here with the weight that was pushing on him…and most would not even believe him if he told them about his past, about what he had been through and what he had done – how many people he has murdered.

 **“My hand is fine”** , Genji replied in a low voice, remembering the question just as Mondatta bend to pick Zenyatta up from the cot across from him. Something inside of the cyborg ached at the notion, seeing Zenyatta curl himself tighter together and pushing himself into Mondatta’s touch. The feelings left Genji feeling empty and he forced himself not to gasp for air or push his hand to his chest in a stupid attempt to keep himself from falling apart.

Genji looked at Zenyatta’s face, not in search of signs of waking but simply to look at the man a few moments longer before he was taken from him.  
Shaking his head once Mondatta turned around to leave Genji wanted to hit himself. He had no right to think this way, Zenyatta didn’t belong to him and had more duties than to care for him. He was an intruder here after all and had no right to the attention and time of Zenyatta.

The cyborg watched Mondatta leave with the precious bundle of the younger man in his arms, closing the door behind him with the swift movement of a foot. He stared at the door for many more moments, trying to calm the raging storm of emotions inside of him.  
After the interaction with Mondatta Genji was sure he would not find any sleep tonight. Since he slept most of the day, he wasn’t feeling tired anyway and with the way his mind was racing, even if he tried he wouldn’t be able to find peace. Not even the soft warmth of the golden orb lying next to his legs would be able to do anything about it.

His gaze was drawn back to the cot that Zenyatta had been lying in until recently and the cyborg found himself compelled to move towards it, maybe catch the last warmth that lingered in the fabric of the bed. The ache inside his chest grew stronger but he didn’t allow himself to move, instead staying seated on his cot, balling the fabric of the blanket over his legs into his fists.

*****

Genji didn’t know how long he had been just sitting there at the edge of his cot, mind empty and his body aching for something he knew he would never be able to have again. He moved to lie down on his side on his cot, reaching out for the book at the top of the small pile and opening it to the page that he had previously stopped reading on.

He finished reading the book and when he moved, his body feeling stiff from not moving for so long, he realized that it was already slowly getting light outside. The reading had kept his mind off the topics that it desperately wanted to think about and now that Genji was done with it, the empty feeling crashed into him once more. Putting the book back on top of the pile he turned around, away from the window to curl up into a ball, pulling the blanket over him that had previously only been over his legs. Feeling how cold his skin had become and how stiff his cybernetics were he realized that the small fire in the corner of the room had gone out and that his breath was visible in small, white puffs in front of his face.

Groaning when he felt his body begin to shiver he blindly moved his hands around in search of the second blanket lying on his cot somewhere and crudely pulling it over his body once he found an edge.  
It felt like time had stopped when all he could do was rock himself slightly to try and warm his body while staring at the wall of his room. The only indication that the world had not indeed stopped around him was the slowly shifting light from the sun rising outside.

******

A gentle knock on Genji’s door made him jerk and he turned around on his cot a little too quickly, his head dizzy from the movement as he tried to focus on the spinning door in front of him. He didn’t know if he had been asleep at all or not, his eyes feeling dry and a headache was swiftly starting to make his head feel like someone was hammering against it.  
The second set of knocks made Genji groan instead of replying, his stomach heaving slightly from nausea spreading through his body. He moved to slowly sit up just as the door was being opened to reveal Fon. The small hope that had been blooming inside of him, that maybe Zenyatta would be the one to greet him, was swiftly crushed and he nodded in silence at the omnic approaching him.

 **“Oh! You’re awake, at least someone here is. Has Zenyatta been with you yet?”** , Fon asked, eyeing the tray of empty dishes at the foot of Genji’s cot but soon realizing that it was clearly from last night’s dinner.  
Genji shook his head, wondering who Fon was referring to when he mentioned that he was at least awake. It must be early morning by now and were the monk not usually early risers and more than likely already well on their way to their daily tasks.

 **“No. He has not been with me today”** , Genji replied, watching the omnic collect the tray from last night and putting the empty jug of water on the tray as well, mumbling as he did so. Genji couldn’t understand everything but he caught a few brief words.

 ** _“irresponsible”_** , **_“leaving him alone like that”_** , **_“he should know better”_**.

Genji tried not to let the words get to him but his mind, as tired as it might be, wondered why Zenyatta had not visited him yet if his task had been that he should do so. Had Mondatta taken up his time again, much like last night? And where had the older monk taken Zenyatta, his room or Zenyatta’s?

Genji growled softly when his mind wandered to the two of them again. Why should he care if the two of them were lovers? He held no claim to either of them and especially not Zenyatta. He only knew the man for a few days, jealousy was stupid and yet even with knowing so Genji could not stop himself from feeling lost and empty again.

 **“You must be hungry by now! Breakfast is already over, but I shall see what I can find. Is there anything else you need?”** , Fon was fussing about him and Genji felt rather uncomfortable with the omnic taking such an interest in his well-being when all he wanted to do was lie back down and finally sleep.

After placing the tray close to the door Fon turned to look at their guest and he made a low, disapproving sound when he saw the dark circles and bags beneath Genji’s eyes. If the man did not rest, he would not get better and whatever it was that had kept him awake tonight should be dealt with. Looking over the room to see if anything was amiss the omnic suddenly noticed the second cot and the state it was in. Clearly, someone had been laying on it. Had Genji tried sleeping on it instead of the cot he was currently sitting on? That must be the reason why it was in a state like this.  
Moving towards the cot to rearrange the pillow and fold the blanket Fon noticed the way Genji’s body was shaking. Looking across the room to the fireplace the omnic made a startled noise.

 **“Oh my! The fire’s gone out completely! Has no one thought about putting in more logs last night? You must be freezing by now!”** , the omnic exclaimed and hurried over to the now cold fireplace, beginning to start a new fire with the remaining logs in the small storage next to it. Genji watched the omnic with a blank expression on his face, shivering slightly but not feeling the cold of the room anymore. He knew his body temperature had dropped significantly from how stiff his joints moved and the dizziness he felt.

He must have gotten lost in his thoughts or the nothingness he felt inside, because all of sudden he felt something heavy drop around his shoulders and his entire body moved on its own, jumping up and grabbing the arm that had just draped the blanket around his shoulders, twisting it. His mind went on full alert so fast that Genji felt dizzy again, the room around him spinning but his grasp on the metal arm of the omnic not faltering.

Instincts took over and when Fon tried to reach for him, to calm him down and tell him everything was alright, Genji snarled and twisted the arm a little more, making the omnic shut up. The cyborg was shaking where he was standing, both from the cold and from the sudden rush of adrenaline crashing through his body, his breath coming in quick gasps, his lungs burning.

After another few moments, Genji suddenly let go of Fon’s arm, the omnic moving it close to his body again and straightening, watching the cyborg in front of him. Genji was staggering back slightly before falling to his knees and heaving, his body convulsing from the cramps in his stomach. Nothing came up but Genji felt even more miserable than before.  
Looking up to where Fon was standing slightly away from him, Genji closed his eyes, letting the shame wash over him. The omnic was just helping him and he had attacked him. Pressing one arm to his abdomen to try and force his body to calm down he let his head hang low in shame.

Hearing the shuffling in front of him he gasped when he felt the same weight as before fall on his shoulders, his free hand grabbing the edges of the blanket with shaking fingers, pulling the fabric closer to him.

 **“I am sorry that I startled you Genji. Do not feel bad for your actions, I should not have done what I did without telling you about it”** , Fon explained in a gentle voice, hovering close to Genji but knowing that he couldn’t do much to help the man right now.

Genji didn’t allow the tears to fall that were building up and create pressure in his already dry eyes. Everything was becoming too much and he just wanted to sleep, to forget and to cease existing.  
The warmth from the fireplace slowly found its way to Genji and the soft caress of warm air against his cheeks almost made him choke on his own breathing. It felt almost like a soft caress against his scarred skin and he leaned into it before he even realized that he was moving at all.

 **“There is no need to apologize. It is my fault. I should not have attacked you…I shouldn’t…I-…”  
** Genji’s words get lost and he clung to the edge of the blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him together in this very moment.  
Fon carefully kneeled in front of Genji, reaching out to gently grab his shoulders.

 **“What happened, happened. I do not hold it against you, Genji. Whatever reasons you may have, whatever happened in your past for you to react in such a way: I do not judge you”** , Fon explained softly, using his grip on Genji’s shoulders and the man’s obvious defeat to manoeuvre him up and onto the edge of the cot. After all, the man should not be sitting on the cold stones for any longer than he had to.

Genji let Fon manhandle him onto the cot where he sank even more into himself, pulling the blanket tight around himself and concentrating on keeping his shivering to a minimum.

 **“I wish for you to eat some light breakfast, Genji. Will you be alright for the time which it will take me to take this tray back to the kitchen and return with food for you?”** , the omnic asked, standing in front of Genji and pointing to the empty tray from the night before.

Genji moved his gaze from his lap to the tray and then up to Fon, his mind feeling numb and the pain from his headache making him feel slow and slugged. He nodded slowly, glancing briefly towards the door leading to the small bathroom, knowing that the shards of the mirror were still lying in the sink.

Fon could only take Genji’s words, or in this case nod, for it and since Mondatta and most likely Zenyatta had both decided to sleep in and slack in their duties, Fon was left by himself. Walking towards the door and picking up the tray he balanced it with one arm while he reached for the door with the other.  
 **“I promise to be quick, Genji.”**

Genji nodded once again, looking at the omnic and watching him leave the room and close the door behind himself. Only then did Genji allow his tears to fall, the hot wetness scorching a path down his cheeks and falling into the fabric wrapped around his body. There was no sound except the ragged intake of breath every time Genji suppressed a sob, feeling his chest clench in pain at the strength it took him to keep those down. He glanced towards the door to the bathroom once again but couldn’t find the energy within himself to get up…not even when the shards in the sink would mean his release from this pain.

The cyborg managed to calm himself just before Fon knocked on his door again and the omnic entered his room with a tray filled with two bowls and a fresh jug of water. Putting the jug down to where the old one had been, Fon filled a glass with fresh water and put that on the tray instead, walking towards Genji and placing it down next to him on the cot.

 **“I managed to get you a light soup and some vegetables…”** , Fon explained before he moved away from Genji to give him privacy to eat in peace should he want to. Busying himself with checking the fire and making sure it would heat the room properly again.

Slowly Genji reached for the tray of food, taking in the smell of the soup and checking if his stomach had settled enough for him to be able to keep it inside. When no more cramps happened Genji carefully took the spoon and blew on the soup. He would force himself to eat a couple spoonful’s but already knew that it wouldn’t be much.  
While the cyborg was busy eating, something Fon noted with pleasure, he wandered towards the open doorway to the bathroom, glancing inside and barely stopping himself from making a sound when he noticed the broken mirror lying in the sink. He would need to talk with Mondatta about this and have someone clean this up before Genji might do anyone or himself harm.

*****

After Genji had finished eating, not managing to eat much but Fon didn’t push him either, the omnic had somehow convinced Genji to take a walk with him. Zenyatta had promised Genji to take him to the baths again today but the man hadn’t found his way to Genji’s room yet. And after what Genji had just done to Fon, his shame and guilty conscious forbid him from saying no to Fon’s ‘suggestion’.

Following the omnic down the several corridors, clutching his blanket tightly around his body and keeping close to the walls again, Genji had no idea where he was being taken. Fon had offered several times along the way to assist him with his walking but Genji declined every time. He did not need any help.  
Only when they stopped in front of a closed-door did Genji suspect where they were.

While Fon had opened the door and spoken to Zenyatta Genji had lingered in the background, leaning heavily against the doorframe not sure what he was doing here and why Fon had felt the need for him to accompany him to wake Zenyatta up. Genji didn’t follow the conversation of the two but when Fon stood beside him all of a sudden he looked up with tired eyes.

 **“I have many duties to attend to, some of which I am running late to now, yes”** , Fon replied and turned his back to Genji as he looked back at Zenyatta once again.  
 **“I hope you will take better care of our guest from now on, Zenyatta…”** , he said before turning to leave, stopping to look at Genji once again before leaving to find Mondatta to talk about what had happened this morning.  
Genji felt lost, standing in the doorway to Zenyatta’s room. He shouldn’t be here…neither here in the man’s room, nor in the monastery itself.

 **“I-…I am sorry”  
** Genji felt like he had been apologizing constantly these past days…but he was right. It was Genji’s fault that Zenyatta had been so exhausted last night, that the man came to visit him again so late and therefore also why he overslept today…  
Looking at Zenyatta Genji remembered the way in which Mondatta had touched and carried the young man last night and the low ache settled in his chest again. How much he craved the touch of another human being was above anything Genji had ever felt before…but he knew why he didn’t deserve such kindness.

* * *

As Fon’s diatribe continued, Zenyatta’s will to exist began to rapidly fade. But far be it from him to shrink back under the covers, Fon would have dragged him out by his toes if he had to, he sat there, dumbstruck, listening as the old omnic reeled off a long list of his discrepancies and went to great lengths to explain just how messed up his morning had been as a result. He should have felt guilty, he did feel guilty, but nothing he could do or say could take back that lost morning now.

But the news that Mondatta wasn’t where he should have been at this hour, surprised him all over again. This was unheard of, and besides for the occasional seasonal sniffles, he had never taken the morning off.

 **“I…forgive me, I was burning the midnight oil again.”**   
It wasn’t an excuse, Fon would be quick to remind him thus the next time they were alone, but at least he spared him that indignity in front of Genji. 

Oh Iris - _Genji!_

What the prissy omnic had been saying about their guest being cold, having to fend for himself all night, now it all made sense. The fire, the lack of fresh drinking water, extra blankets. He had neglected it all and he felt the onset of guilt already.  
Had he really just fallen asleep? How did he get back to his room?  
The latter, his mind had answered in part when he had discovered he was fully clothed. Mondatta always checked in on him, without fail, whether Zenyatta was awake or not. It had been one of those habits that had been hard to break, following the awful incident that had almost seen Zenyatta taken from them entirely.

In those first few, critical, days, Mondatta had not left his student’s side, save for those moments the medical professionals had made it known that the elder monk needed his rest every bit as much as his younger charge. Zenyatta would have bet his life on it the man had not slept in those moments either, constantly searching his soul for the answers to the same question that would plague him for years to come: Had he done the right thing?  
Over time, as Zenyatta had recovered, his constant vigil had become more of a background occurrence, watching over Zenyatta when it seemed appropriate because the master knew that one day, like it or not, he would have to let his student stretch his new legs.

At some point in his reverie, Fon had hastily vacated the area leaving a rather bedraggled and forlorn-looking Genji where the bot’s shadow would have been otherwise.  
The corners of Zenyatta’s lips curled into a rather sheepish smile, his hand running back over the soft fuzz of his own head, mentally filing away the information that it was due a shave at his first convenience.

 **“No, _I’m_ sorry Genji. I don’t know what came over me, I was just so tired last night.”** The young monk shook his head to clear it, to make the memories rattle their way to the forefront, but nothing presented itself. **“I don’t even remember how I got here.”**

He glanced up again, gesturing the other man into his room, patting the edge of his chaotic mess of a bedroll. Who knew, the cyborg might find it more comfortable than the canvas cots at the infirmary.  
A sigh permeated the uneasy silence between them, a silence that only perpetuated the spread of guilt in his gut.

 **“Are you alright? You look like you didn’t get much rest.”  
** Fon would have fed him because of course, he would, it was a sheer miracle the omnic hadn’t brought Zenyatta a steaming plate of whatever was passing for breakfast at the kitchens these days. He had long since opted for picking his own, but not when Fon was around. He would be nourished if he liked it or not!

 **“I’m sorry for leaving you with Fon. He means well, but he doesn’t always understand the need for uhh...personal space.”  
** And that was the beginnings of a lazy smile of reminiscence. It was nice to think back, but he would not like to experience it more than once in such a capacity.  
 **“If you would like to sleep, I can buy you some time before we head to the baths.”** , he said, rising from his bedroll and stepping the whole two paces it took to get to the crate that housed his clothing. Lifting the lid, Zenyatta began to rummage around inside. **“I need to find and speak to Mondatta about last night.”** \- His master would surely be disappointed in him, particularly if his impromptu napping had led to the man himself lacking the sleep he required too. It never entered his fuzzy head how that could have sounded, or looked, to Genji. It was what it was to him.  
 **“You won’t be disturbed here; the sleeping quarters are quite deserted during the day.”**

Hands quickly snagged a hold of what he was searching for, pulling a folded bulk of orange fabric from the smooth wooden crate and setting it to one side. The robes he wore were creased and crinkled in all the wrong places, not that appearances mattered all the way out here, but he had slept in these all night, and as such, donning a new Kasaya would go a long way to making him feel more human.  
Unfolding the swathe of brightly coloured fabric between careful hands, he tossed a glance over one shoulder to the twitchy cyborg, recalling their moment the day before. He had been flustered then and it seemed so silly now. After all, what was in a jovial comment? Genji was hardly in a state to be in control of all his faculties and the odd slip of the tongue was bound to happen as he began to ease himself back into the swing of normality.

**“I just need to uhh…change first. Don’t mind me.”**

_No, that wasn’t awkward at all!_ Zenyatta didn’t really have the time to chastise himself any further than that, slipping out of the robe he had been wearing in a matter of seconds. Bundling up the worn clothing, he tossed it into a corner rather carelessly. He would take it to the laundry room later.  
The warmth of the sun, streaming in through the open window, kissed the skin across his shoulders, down his back to the rise of his rear, a normally comforting warmth, but here he couldn’t have felt under more scrutiny, and yet he could not quite explain why. Even with the prior knowledge, he had convinced himself was true, he could still feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the sunlight.

 **“For what it’s worth, you are sounding a little more healthy today. Must be all the soup we’ve been bringing you.”  
** The young monk knew it wasn’t simply that, but the idea sounded amusing all the same.  
He began to wrap the clean swathe of fabric around himself, securing it with a tuck and a knot, so at least with his waist wrap sorted, he wouldn’t be completely bearing all while the other was here.  
 **“I believe Mondatta wishes for me to find you suitable accommodation. At least there you will be warm. The infirmary is not the best locale for that and the village has everything you require within easy reach. We could look together.”**

Slinging the last of the fabric over his shoulder, he reached back to pull it around to the front, beneath his arm, securing the last of it with a rope-like sash, its oversized beads and tassel hanging low at the back. The flats of his palms smoothed down the unruly creases, and he turned back to face Genji.  
It was decision time.

But when his eyes raked over the flagging man, the deep hue of the circles under his eyes unmistakable, Zenyatta knew it was really no choice at all. Guilt tugged at him good and proper, wrenching him one way, then the other, perhaps they should just stay at the monastery today, allow Genji to catch up on his sleep.

 **“Or, you could stay here while I look, unless…”  
** His voice softened just a tad, enough to be noticeable as he perched on the edge of the clothing crate.  
 **“Unless there was anything you wished to discuss with me? You have my word it won’t go beyond these four walls.”  
** Unable to look Genji in the eye, and not yet fully understanding the reasoning for it, Zenyatta tugged at the rope sash, pulling the tassel around into his hand, where he began to card the coarse strands, smoothing then separating, rinse, lather, repeat.

Whatever could he mean? Oh Zenyatta knew, but he had not the heart to bring it up when he was so completely unsure if Genji had felt it too - the awkward tension that had surrounded them since yesterday, the discussion about his legs, his ridiculous overbalancing, which had resulted in a very wet Zenyatta, laying in a pool of Himalayan salted water, looking every bit the fool he felt. It had happened so suddenly, he had barely noticed its inception, weaving and twining them together as difficultly as it could, and snagging them tightly within its hold. Surely Genji felt it too? It was ruthless and unashamed.

 **“A-Anything at all.”**

* * *

Genji leaned heavily against the doorframe to Zenyatta’s room. Everything around him felt like it was going to start spinning any second, his headache pounding against the inside of his forehead and his eyes staring straight ahead without blinking. He could feel the tiredness creep up his back and settle at the base of his skull, his eyes dry and the bags beneath them feeling like they were pulling him down.

Watching Zenyatta gesture him inside, Genji slowly pushed himself away from the wall and stagger over towards the bedroll. His path didn’t exactly equal a straight line, his feeling of balance entirely off. The cyborg let himself fall heavily on the bedroll, as far away from Zenyatta as it was possible for him.

Glancing over to the man he felt the heavy silence settle over them again. Genji wasn’t feeling very talkative at the moment so the question about his well-being made Genji frown.

 **“I-…I didn’t sleep”** , Genji murmured, playing with the loose strings of the bandage around his hand. The wound below was itching and Genji could barely suppress the need to scratch. Grinding his palm slowly over the edges of the metal of his knee hissing in pain when the pressure was put too directly on the wound itself.

Genji watched Zenyatta carefully with his head slumped down, he was just so tired but with the way he was feeling, sleep was sounding less and less like a good idea, just like it had all through the night. His mind and emotions were all over the place and with his thoughts circling over and over around the way that Mondatta had carried Zen and the memories it had brought up, Genji didn’t trust himself enough to rest.

At the mention of Zenyatta wanting to speak to Mondatta about last night, Genji perked his head up to look closer at Zenyatta. He was still in the same clothes as he had been yesterday…had Mondatta taken Zenyatta back to his own room and only brought him here early this morning? Or did Zenyatta only leave the older monk’s quarters early…after they had spent the night together?

 **“I-…We’re going to the baths again today?”** , the cyborg asked, wondering if his cybernetics would be alright if he bathed again without drying himself properly and taking proper care of them. Remembering how the trip to the baths had ended yesterday, Genji didn’t really feel like repeating that again. Even though he didn’t tell any of his past to Zenyatta it had still felt like it, hearing about Zenyatta’s past and it had left him feeling raw.

Staring at Zenyatta once he moved away, declaring that he wanted to change, Genji’s mind wandered once again to the memories that have haunted him since yesterday. His brother and him changing after a training session, going to the showers together, laughing about how Genji had finally managed to get a hit on Hanzo.  
Squinting once Zenyatta began undressing, Genji moved to stare at the ground in front of him.

Hearing Zenyatta’s voice but not actually listening to him, Genji’s mind wandered further away from him, memory after memory playing in front of his inner eye. His chest tightened the more he saw the days that were now forever lost. Glimpses of bright green scales felt like a cut to his skin every time he saw them, a reminder of one of the two most important things he lost that day. His dragon would never return to him…killed the same day he had been.

Balling his hands into fists he felt himself shake from the force that it took him to keep himself together. The lack of sleep made the cyborg more unstable and his temper rose when once again Zenyatta mentioned Mondatta…and looking for a room by himself, like Genji was some weak child that needed someone to do his duties for him. Everything seemed to be coming together in one massive wave, his usual silent self being pushed to the back of his mind.

 **“Why are you so nice to me?!”  
** The question left Genji in almost a shout, looking up to the now fully clothed monk to the side of him. His temper was quickly rising, his head beginning to feel dizzy and his chest feeling like a rope was being tied around him tighter and tighter.

 **“And don’t give me the whole ‘You are our guest’ shit! I am a stranger! You know nothing about me! Or has _Mondatta_** “, he almost spit the name of the older monk, thinking about the times he had assured Genji to not talk to Zenyatta  
 **“already told you everything even though he promised not to?!”**

Genji’s breath was coming faster and faster, sweat started to bead on his forehead with the way the hot wave of anger was washing over him. A small part of his brain told him that he was wrong to let it out on Zenyatta, that the man was not at fault here. Gasping once, moving one hand to press it against his chest when pain travelled through it, he looked up to Zenyatta again, his eyes filled with the many emotions currently coursing through him.

 **“I don’t need your pity! I don’t WANT your care!”  
** That was a lie and Genji knew that but the thought of allowing these men to get close to him already tore him up inside. He would never be able to repay them…never again would he pledge his allegiance to people who saved his life. He had done that once with Overwatch and he would never do so again.

Moving to stand up proved to be more difficult than Genji had expected and he staggered once he pulled himself to a stand. Closing his eyes to stop the room from spinning, he waited until nausea and dizziness were slightly less to open them again and stare at Zenyatta.

 **“You are harbouring a dead man…I don’t exist anywhere anymore. I am a ghost. A machine made of the corpse of a man killed…by his own…by…”** , Genji voice broke into a sob, his brothers face appearing in front of him and all of a sudden it felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. Falling to his knees he caught himself with his hands, wincing when the weight felt on the cut on his palm. He didn’t notice the tears at first, his eyes already feeling dry and itching, but the wet spots on the light stones beneath his knees gave them away. An ugly sob wrenched itself free from his body when the cyborg tried to take a deep breath.

Everything around him seemed to crumble right at this moment, his grip on reality quickly fading. He felt more than pathetic, kneeling on the ground in front of the monk, crying. Why in heaven’s name was he even still here? He had known from the beginning that he would ruin everything again, just like he was doing now. He didn’t deserve to live, didn’t deserve the kindness that had been shown to him, the patience and the care.

The awkward tension that had been growing between them since their trip to the bath confused Genji as to where the source of these feelings was. The jealousy coursing through him whenever Zenyatta mentioned the older monk - he had no right to feel these emotions when he had only been here for such a short time.  
But ever since Zenyatta had brought him back from his hallucination…the same warm light engulfing him then, that seemed to come from the orbs every time Zenyatta charged them, he had felt…something between the two of them. Whatever it had been that Zenyatta had done that day, it had changed Genji.

Nothing would ever change the fact that he is what he is now. A machine made solely for killing, every part of his body built to hurt others. There were no soft edges to his body anymore, nothing anyone would ever call handsome again…and Zenyatta was the exact opposite of him. Bright soul shining behind those beautiful eyes, soft skin kissed by the shine of the sun and even the fact that the man had two cybernetic legs did not take anything away from the beauty that was standing in front of him; the light that was Zenyatta.

Pushing himself back, sitting on his heels, Genji looked up towards Zenyatta, his tears stopped and eyes now burning. Compared to the monk Genji was the sinner, kneeling there and begging for salvation. The darkness of his past crimes seemed to surround him like a blanket, a dark cloud staying close to his body and never leaving him, constantly reminding him of what he had done…what has been done to him – what **_HE_** had done to him.

**“Please…please don’t be kind to me. It-…it tears me apart”**   
  


* * *

What had begun as a very confusing day was slowly degenerating into an incomprehensible _mess_. Zenyatta did not just sense the vitriol behind those words, he felt it as deep as the blade that had severed his legs. All of the desperation, the turmoil, the hatred, poured from Genji like an open wound. And maybe it was?   
What the monk had glimpsed in his dream, the brief insight into what had to have been Genji’s world had left him reeling, overwhelmed and not just a little bit unnerved. The dragon’s pain at being torn from its master, it was a pain shared and not one halved by default.  
There was so much spilling from that mouth, that he fought to comprehend just one sentence, one sentiment that seemed more out of place than the others.

And then, Genji spat Mondatta’s name like Zenyatta should know what it was he spoke of.  
Whipping around as if struck, the look on his face had to have been nothing short of mollified. He was on his feet immediately, sheer force of an iron will forcing his legs not to adopt a defensive stance. He had done no wrong here, this pain was not of his making, but he had to know what it was Mondatta knew.

 **“What are you - ? Mondatta told me nothing, Genji. He told me _nothing.”  
_** But that was not going to stop the man, who was hell-bent on his tirade of self-destruction, it wouldn’t make him believe him. Nothing Zenyatta could do would stop him, he simply had to weather the tumult.

Sleep deprivation, psychological disturbances, they took their toll on the most solid of minds, but adding to it the paranoia, the fever, diminished or not, and therein lay a recipe for the perfect, chaotic, storm. Genji’s gestures grew more erratic, his words almost garbled in places and Zenyatta feared that should he step in, try to restrain the man or bring him back to himself, he would come off worse the wear. Now it made sense as to why Mondatta had chosen to sequester the man’s weapon away, should Genji have had possession of it in this very moment, the monk might have feared for his life. To give in to fear now, though, would be a very foolish thing to do. He needed his wits about him and he needed to remain calm.

 **“Genji, please, if you will just _listen_ to m-”** All the placating hands in the world wouldn’t stop the cyborg from hissing out those words about pity.

So did he? Zenyatta wondered, did he really pity Genji? Sympathy for his situation was not the same as pity, nor was it redundant. He didn’t come to this life, this path, just to take pity on strangers he found laying in the snow. He had done it to help. The very suggestion it was the latter was an insult that even he struggled to refrain taking offence to. Hot and acrid, the heat of it coiled in his belly, waiting for the opportunity to strike, but Zenyatta would not give way to it, remaining silent for the matter of several, easy, breaths it took to dampen down on it, until he could formulate an answer that was as rational as it was honest.

 **“You are right. You do not want, nor need, my pity, and I will not give it to you.”** , he managed to wedge his words firmly between the barrage of emotion still flooding the space between them.  
 **“I would no more pity you than I would a mouse caught in the talons of a bird of prey.”** Seemingly harsh, it had bought him a modicum of respite, for now at least.   
**“Pity cannot change what happened to you, it cannot undo what an effect your circumstances have on you now. Empathy is _not pity,_ Genji. I can help you, I am willing to, but it has to start with you.”**

And if that meant persistence until the man relented, then perhaps they could make some ground here. Zenyatta wished, to the heavens and back, that this would not be as painful as it sounded. Yet he already knew the answer to that one.  
Crouching, so that he, too, was on an even level with the cyborg, he placed his palms flat together, non-threatening and sincere.  
 **“I do not know what kind of things you spoke of with Mondatta, but if it was not for my ears then I will not know it. You can trust him, you can trust me.”**

All of this, every bit, was a little rich coming from virtual strangers, but Genji had trekked halfway up a mountain to seek them out. Nobody became lost on the mountain pass and ended up at their monastery, the village was signposted, the monastery towered over it all, there was no missing their presence here, should you venture high enough. And on the world’s stage, the Shambali were a known entity. Genji’s being here was no mistake.

 **“And you may not want my care, but you have it nevertheless.”  
** The monk dared to settle on his haunches, balanced precariously, trusting that the man across from him would not lash out and send him toppling backwards onto his rear.  
It was a miracle Fon had not returned to discover what was going on, these halls had a way of carrying sound like no other, their close quarters somewhat conducive of a din. This was, Zenyatta would reflect later, the most noise these quarters had seen.

Those words, those defeated, listlessly desperate, words - harbouring a dead man, killed by his own, by his-

**“…your brother.”**

It slipped from Zenyatta’s lips like a fine mist amid the morning haze, gossamer, a ghost of his thoughts that others caught fleeting glimpses of. A mere apparition. And yet it had come to him like a revelation, whispered into the recesses of his subconscious by the dying spirit he had witnessed that night. The dragon’s cries, a lament born of something other than simple betrayal. It had been mourning. Mourning the loss of its life, the loss of its master and the loss of a presence that had been a stable constant in their life since birth. There had been love there, once.

But not anymore.

Slowly, the focus began to return to the young monk’s eyes and he realized, to his horror, he had spoken the words aloud. Uselessly, his lips moved, trying to take them back, trying to form sentences his mind had not even begun to process. How could he know, how could he be certain? And yet there was something in the way the other reacted that told him he had hit the mark a little too precise. Was this what Mondatta had known, was this the big secret? He had no brothers or sisters by blood, but the thought of any of them betraying him to any degree cut deeply.

 **“Genji, I-I’m…”** Zenyatta began, holding up a hand as if, by divine right, it would ward off the shove he was due. **“I should never have said that.”**

And that plea, that strained, strung out askance he knew he could not comply with, it nearly broke his heart clean in two.  
If ever there existed a compulsion to enfold another in a tight, reassuring embrace, it was now. Zenyatta positively ached with the need to but reflecting upon what he had just said and his reaction at the baths the day before, he was more likely to receive a black eye than welcome sentiments.

So he just sat back, waiting for it, fully expecting the blow to land. He had had worse, he told himself, not exactly a lie, but that didn’t stop him from mentally bracing for it nevertheless.  
 **“Mondatta always said I sometimes had all the tact of an elephant.”  
** Lightening the mood probably wasn’t the best idea, nor was self-depreciation, **“Please, don’t be angry at him, he truly told me nothing of what you two spoke.”**

* * *

Zenyatta’s words, even if they were the truth, fell on deaf ears. The sound seemed to reach Genji’s brain coated in thick cotton, muffled and coming from further and further away. The monk’s words about empathy made the cyborg gasp in pain as it felt like with everything spoken a knife cut deeper inside of his heart, twisting slowly.

Why was this man so willing to help him? When he knew nothing about him? About what he had done, what he was capable of?! How could anyone be so trusting blindly?  
And if Mondatta really hadn’t talked to Zenyatta then Genji was currently making a massive fool out of himself.

Watching Zenyatta move to kneel in front of him, his posture calm and non-threatening and yet every fibre of Genji’s body stood on edge like he was stalked by a predator. Genji followed every oh so small movement, every twitch of muscles in the monk’s body with his eyes, his hands pressed against the metal plating on his thighs, body tense and in definite flight mode.

His mind was awfully quiet suddenly like his outburst had depleted every last cell of its energy and yet only his mind was empty, not calm just a constant stream of pain filling it. The silence that settled between them grew heavier after they both spoke their parts, Zenyatta reigning his emotions in while Genji had pushed them all out there.

**_“…your brother.”_ **

Genji didn’t understand the quietly whispered words at first but his brain had still registered the words and their meaning just seconds after they were spoken into the silence between them. The cyborg’s head whipped up, glaring at Zenyatta and his body went rigid.

Genji watched Zenyatta’s lips move, waited for the man to explain but no sounds came from the monk and Genji’s world finally broke apart. Every rope, every attempt to hold the shards that were his life together, was ripped apart in this short moment. All the years that he had spent travelling after killing his family, taking revenge on everyone except the one person that he so desperately wanted to see bleeding in front of him, in vain. He was no step closer to finally finding peace than all these years ago.

And as Genji felt his world shatter he felt just like so many years ago…helplessly kneeling in front of his brother, begging for mercy, for him to spare his life. Tears had run hot down his cheeks back then as he had looked up at his brother, already knowing that he would not survive this last blow and that his brother was too far gone to let him live.  
Blinking and feeling the tears once again fall from his eyes, he looked at Zenyatta, but his gaze wasn’t focused on the man in front of him, instead only seeing his older brother with his katana raised, ready to strike.

Suddenly Zenyatta moved his hand and the cyborg snapped into motion, blinking and focusing on the monk in front of him. Instincts taking over, the cyborg lost in his memories and the images that were now bombarding his mind, images he had thought he had locked away.  
Rising from his kneeling position Genji looked through the room frantically, reality overlapping with hallucinations mirroring his memories. Staggering once he was standing, he grasped his chest in pain, a sob being torn from him.

The pain, the memories, the images…they were all too much and the cyborg staggered forwards slightly only now realizing that Zenyatta had come to stand in front of him. Stopping himself in his tracks, his gaze once again focused on the man. Genji realized at this moment that Zenyatta knew that he was dangerous even without his weapons and that right now he was unpredictable.

As much as Genji tried to focus his anger on the man standing in front of him, he couldn’t keep it there. Something inside told him that Zenyatta was only trying to help and was not at fault here…there was a whisper in the back of his head, telling him to leave the man alone.  
Clawing at his chest with the blunt nails of his human hand, leaving angry red marks on his chest, Genji tried to take a deep breath while he staggered backwards. He needed to leave…needed to get away from Zenyatta before he lost control entirely, the tiny amount of sanity left inside of him trying to protect an innocent bystander.

Hitting the wall with his back Genji gasped, turning around to hold himself up against it as he moved towards the door. Hearing light shuffling of clothes behind him, Genji grasped the doorframe tightly and whipped around, glaring at Zenyatta.

 **“DON’T…FOLLOW ME!”** , his words sounded raw, his voice ringing in the empty hallway and Zenyatta’s room.

He needed to leave…needed to get outside, away. Before he broke apart. Needed to protect the many innocent people living in this monastery from himself. He should have known that this point would come one day. That one day he would lose it. Angela had always ensured him that he was still human, that he could control himself and his actions. He was still ‘Genji’.

Staggering through the hallways, bumping against the walls and corners in a desperate search for an escape to the outside, Genji’s eyes were blind to the reality around him. All his eyes could see were the endless, red lake he was walking on – back in the same scene that had been his nightmare for so many years.  
Every step he took seemed to only bring him further away from the island he wanted to reach, the island on which he knew he would find what he has been missing for so long. Only when Genji had almost given up on reaching it, did every step finally bring him closer to it. Bumping into the sudden edge of soil in his vision also marked his body finding a door to the outside, the courtyard on which he had been before on his way to help Zenyatta take stock of the monk’s rations.

Staggering forward and onto the free space, he sank to the ground, his knees hitting the cold stones, the snow whirling up and settling around him soon after. Looking up towards the island he finally met the eye of what he has been missing. The large serpent staring back at him, its breath coming in pained huffs, the majestic beast lying on the ground, bleeding from several deep cuts.  
Only when the dragon spotted him did it move, unfurling his body slightly to reveal a body protected by the serpent’s larger body. Genji’s heart skipped a beat when he stared blankly at himself laying bleeding, passed out in his dragon’s embrace. His chest rising in time with the beast.

And suddenly Genji realized why the connection to the spirit he had known for all his life, the spirit who had made up part of his soul, had been missing ever since he died.  
He never died.  
His brother did strike him, leaving him to die, to bleed out on the floor of their childhood home and when Genji had passed out he thought he had died…but that had never happened. Instead, his dragon had protected him, kept him alive with its own power until he had been found and taken in for medical attention.

Looking up into the dragon’s eyes, he knew that was the truth, those eyes could never lie.  
Gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face Genji watched the dragon curl tighter around the unconscious body, letting out a deep, rattling sigh, settling his head against his younger version’s body, nudging it softly and letting out a content sigh when the body groaned.

The large serpent moved only slightly to look at Genji and it appeared to have a smile on its lips, the wise eyes of the creature twinkling with joy at the knowledge that it managed to keep its master alive.  
Closing its eyes again, the dragon settled his head back down against the body, letting out a deep huff before the body of the mighty beast suddenly relaxed and silence settled around Genji, pulling him back to reality.

**“NOOOOOOOO!! No please, no! No, you can’t be dead! No!”**

Blinking through the tears, the loss and the pain made the cyborg crumble to the ground, uncontrolled sobs wracking his body as he clawed at his chest trying to stop the empty feeling inside that the sudden separation of his spirit had left behind.

 **“You saved my life…”** , he whispered into the silence surrounding him.  
Only when a sudden light breeze fluttered past Genji did he jerk up again, looking around himself in the desperate hope to see a manifestation of the missing piece of his soul flying around him. But all he saw was a single feather, slowly falling in the air, with no birds in sight who could have lost it.

Reaching out and grasping it softly he put it on his palm, staring at it in disbelief. There laid a brown tipped feather of a sparrow.  
Chuckles rose up in Genji’s chest, threatening to bubble out of him as he looked down at the feather in his hand. Laughing through his tears now, he pressed the small feather against his chest, bending over to almost curl around it, while softs sobs still slipped from his lips.

When had destiny decided to toy with Genji’s life? And when had it decided to make it into a special kind of hell? Whatever had he done to deserve such punishment.   
  


* * *

He had known what he had done the second the words tumbled from his mouth. The look that Genji gave him was born of fire, a raging, _green_ , inferno despite the red, and if he had listened hard enough, Zenyatta imagined he would have heard the same, anguished, cries of the dragon he had seen in his nightmares.

Genji was on his feet in that instant, so fast that Zenyatta rose to his own almost immediately. He did not choose to hinder the cyborg, that would have been the worst thing he could have done, and no further apologies came to mind when his body was all but prepared for a scuffle. He did not fancy his chances against augmented limbs, let alone someone who carried around such weapons as this man had and, undoubtedly, knew how to use them to devastating effect. That took skill, and while he had skills of his own, combative or otherwise, he preferred to use them otherwise.

Out of nowhere, Zenyatta watched, transfixed, while Genji’s one remaining flesh and blood hand grasped, fruitlessly, at his own bare chest, fingers contorted into a claw-like shape, scraping and scratching blunt nails against his scarred flesh. It was as if he intended to claw and tear the skin from his half cybernetic frame, and no less horrific for Zenyatta to observe.  
Zenyatta dared to take a step forward, his intention to persuade the other man to cease his obsessive compulsion, but this only made matters much worse. To the sound of grating metal, Genji fell back against the wall, arm flailing back as he attempted to balance himself in the throes of an unseen torment. Zenyatta backed off immediately, stepping away to give the other some room to breathe, to focus, to -

Genji wanted out, and the overwhelmed monk was not going to deny him his exit.

Allowing him to breeze by, there was no missing the glassy tinge to those red-irised eyes, focused on something so distant, it could have only been glimpsed in Genji’s mind’s eye. And he could just imagine what it was, too - the lake, the blood, the looming figure enshrouded in shadow and the cries of the dragon, marooned upon an island where they had been left to die. It still made very little sense to Zenyatta, and yet together, perhaps they could have painted a full picture. Right now, Genji’s turmoil was more indicative of his trauma than it was his recovery, and they needed to do something about that. He needed to find release.

The indignant words passed off as a warning left Zenyatta numb and anxious with shock. He had seen what he thought was Genji angry, he had witnessed the complete opposite, the despair, but this was like nothing he had witnessed in the past few days. Standing there, he listened as the cyborg stumbled and shambled his way down the hall, making enough of a din to have woken the entire monastery. Lucky for them both that he was having a late morning.  
Zenyatta’s mind whirled with a thousand thoughts and feelings, he should stay here, he should respect Genji’s wishes, but the man was in no fit state to be stumbling around in the snow at such altitudes. One wrong foot and he could slip through an unstable plateau and down he would go, taking half the snow and ice with him.

And if Fon were to find him first -

Zenyatta took off at a dead bolting run, the bare grips of his cybernetic feet slapping against the solid floor as he went. Genji had managed to put a considerable distance between them, enough for Zenyatta to have lost sight of him, chest heaving, heart hammering when he reached the end of the hall. There were two points of exit from here, but one would have led back to Mondatta’s personal quarters, while the other would lead to the monastery communal areas and, via extension, the outside.  
Quarry, no matter the kind, that wished to go to ground, would often do so in a known place, a familiar place, and there were so few places Genji could find familiar here.

As he raced past the infirmary, he turned his head, the door was closed, and he had heard nothing but the slap of his footfalls and the pounding of blood in his ears. That door had such a creak in its hinges, it would have summoned an avalanche, so Genji had not gone that way. No, that would be too obvious. Then there were only two further possibilities: One, Zenyatta was completely wrong in his assumption, or Two; his charge had found his way outside.

Fear forced an icy lump to form in his gut, plummeting into the dark maw - if Genji meant to make good on his wants three nights ago…  
Not on his watch.  
Along the way, he passed by, and almost bowled over, two of his brothers, the omnic’s robes teased up by the breeze Zenyatta’s exit made, the pair dodging, expertly, to one side before they became living skittles in a game neither had consented to. Bursting out into the open he felt his eyes burn and head keen with pain, the bright light of the day making it next to impossible to see through the reflected rays off the freshly fallen snow, but he could _not_ slow down. The young monk’s legs propelled him onward, further and further towards the storehouse he had been working in a couple of days prior, when all of a sudden something, bright and shimmering in the morning sun, caught the glare that reflected back into his eyes, forcing him to squint into the middle distance.  
Coming to an abrupt halt, he could see him there, knelt, collapsed and inert, hands fisting into the snow that slipped through straining, trembling fingertips. Genji did not turn to look at him, nor did he call back for Zenyatta to leave him be just yet. He just rested there, broken and bent, tense and strung out, the sobs that wracked his body jostling his shoulders so badly he could hear the mechanical one grind against its inner workings.

 **“Genji?” _  
_**Zenyatta’s soft call carried on the bracing chill of the air. Genji did not respond, at least not to him.  
 ** _“NOOOOOOOO!! No please, no! No, you can’t be dead! No!”_**

Cries erupted from the man sudden and loud enough to jolt Zenyatta alert with a start, his realization suddenly following suit, and it dawned on him that what Genji was seeing was not of this earthly plain. It may not even have been of any plain but his own creation.  
 _You know that is not entirely true_ \- Zenyatta did, that dream - no - _vision_ , had been clearer to him than any waking nightmare. He could smell the metallic tang of blood in the air, taste the bitterness in the air, the heat radiating from the lake right down to the most minute detail of the cracked, parched earth that crumbled between his fingertips.

Last time, the monk couldn’t help Genji, he hadn’t known what he was looking at and part of him still didn’t. However, he couldn’t just leave him out here like this, left to languish in the freezing temperatures, left to be slowly driven mad by the tumult of visions plaguing his tormented mind.  
He moved without thinking, soundless and limitless in equal measure, fluid in his purpose. Around his body his orbs began to circle at widening intervals, one resting just above the palm of his right hand, he knew it to be fully charged. In no time at all he projected it towards the stricken cyborg, allowing it to hover above Genji’s shoulder, connected by a thin, ever-changing thread of golden light.  
The Iris had shown to him that vision and only within the light of the Iris would he find his answers, he was _certain_ of it.

Within himself, he focused, tethered by the thread that protected Genji, hoping to the Iris itself that it would keep him anchored to the here and now also, and opened himself to its will. Almost instantly he felt its golden light fill him, warm him, welcoming and familiar. Yet all around him, he could feel its power, the true, devastating, potential the Iris contained within itself. It was as magnificent as it was dangerous, and Zenyatta was about to do the one thing he had promised Mondatta he wouldn’t do. Iris help him if he survived to discover what his student had done with his morning.  
Its incandescent tendrils reached out to him, connecting him, drawing him into a higher state of being, even as the young monk fought to retain his strict hold on his surroundings.

The images flooded him instantly, along with the feelings, buffered by the warm reassurance of an entity, a power, he would never fully comprehend. And there it was, sprawled out before him, that beautifully incandescent silhouette, brilliant and yet anguished all at once: The dragon. It surged and called, pained and broken, but far from defeated and nowhere near ready to give up. It was calling for its master, calling for the one to whom it had been entwined, protected all its life.

 _I am here!_ It called. _I still live!_

In the matter of those words, echoing inside his head, all the pain, the tumultuous anguish began to peel and flake away, blown like wind-strewn leaves in fall, leaving the ambient glow of glimmering hope where only dust had once remained. And Zenyatta saw it all, saw the huge creature stretch and rise, its huge, scaly face turned up towards the skies, only to look down at the wreck of a man before it. _Genji_.

Pouring all his energy into bringing Genji back with him, he felt the man jolt into awareness, slipping from that plain of existence as easily as gliding across ice, leaving Zenyatta firmly within the light of the Iris, fully unaware of himself outside of its hold. In the natural plain, the one grounded firmly within constant physical reality, his body remained there, suspended in mid-air, by seemingly no power of his own, framed in a light brighter than any star. He knew nothing of the feather, nor thoughts that a sparrow would never fly so high. Nothing of Genji’s awareness, only that his pain, prominent and present, had changed with the knowledge of the dragon, his dragon, and now Zenyatta needed to get out. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Whenever he had passed this far into the halo of the Iris, someone had always been there to pull him back, to bring him back to the ground and to reality.

Panic began to rise within him, soothed little by the comforting, myriad, voices that spoke to him from beyond the veil, the huge vastness of the golden void that beckoned to him, but it was not his time to go.  
Pushing back as hard as he could, he wrenched himself free of its hold limb by limb, concentrating on that single tendril that anchored him - Genji. One by one they let him go, millions of tiny threads snapping one after the other, each more painful than the last. And then, eventually, he snapped free, falling face-first into the powdery snow beneath him with an anguished cry.

Where warmth had protected him, cold began to bite at his body when the snow beneath began to melt and soak into his kasaya. He pushed up, hearing the clatter and melodic chime of his orbs falling down into the snow around him. The one that had tethered him to this realm, however, remained aloft above Genji’s shoulder.  
Zenyatta blinked, bewildered and more than a little shaken, back at the cyborg, feeling his own cheeks kissed by a wetness that was not melted snow. Tears.  
He was smiling, unsure of his own happiness.

**“They live, Genji. You _both_ live.”**


	11. Chapter Eleven

Slowly the world around Genji came back into focus; the snow beneath his body and the cold wind howling against his skin, drying his tears in a painful, icy trail, ruffling his hair and filling his ears with whispers. Minutes seemed to pass and at the same time, it felt like time itself was standing still. Time in which the cyborg felt nothing, nothing but the anguish of knowing that his dragon, a piece of his soul, was forever lost. Sacrificing itself to keep him alive long enough so help could arrive, keeping his heart beating until Overwatch had found him. Keeping the blood pumping for as long as it took for him to be stabilized only to have its own heart stop in the exact same moment his own had begun to beat in a healthy rhythm again.

And now there was only silence within and around him.  
His sobs still echoed in the courtyard and his lungs were burning from the cold air and the short gasps with which he tried to keep his body going. The cyborg didn’t understand how he had found his way back to the monastery. Away from his nightmarish vision of his dragon’s sacrifice.

Genji couldn’t feel the warmth of the orb that was connected to him and neither did he notice the bright light that only slowly dimmed around him, coming from the monk whose body was still floating slightly off to the side of him.

Clutching the feather close to his heart and trying desperately to calm his erratic breathing, Genji curled tighter into a ball in his current seated position.

Hearing the anguished cry from Zenyatta all of a sudden, only now realizing that he had not been alone all this time, made the cyborg jerk up, push himself backwards and scramble away from the noise, his eyes unable to focus properly on the man in front of him.

Genji watched in shock as the orbs of the young monk fell from their position in the air, rolling around on the snow-covered stone until they settled themselves once again. All of them except the one that he noticed was floating over his shoulder, anchored to him by a string of golden light and spreading warmth all over his body that he hadn’t noticed before.

Still in shock, Genji didn’t move from his position in the snow, watching Zenyatta carefully.  
**“I told you not to follow me!”,** he shouted over to the man, looking up and into his eyes, the cyborg’s breath suddenly caught in his own throat when he noticed the wet trails of tears on Zenyatta’s cheeks.  
His face quickly changed into one of confusion and anger when Genji spotted the happy smile on the man’s lips.  
The words that spilt from Zenyatta’s lips were what tipped Genji over. How could the monk smile, be _happy_ about his misery? Whatever had just happened between the two of them, whatever connection the monk might think there had been, whatever he thought he had seen must not have been the same things that Genji had seen.

No one lived in the vision that he had seen. Neither his dragon nor his body had survived what had been done to them and he was not the same man that had just been seen lying in the dragon’s embrace.

 **“Stop! Just stop talking! No one lived! Whatever…whoever you’ve seen is DEAD! Do you hear me? THEY ARE DEAD!”** , Genji shouted across the space between them in pure desperation. Clutching his chest when a sudden pain shot through his lungs after his screaming, he tried to take deep breaths to calm himself.

Staring down his body, his gaze followed the cybernetic parts of his chest all the way down to the metal of his legs. There was nothing left of the man that had been held in the embrace of such a powerful entity. He was now simply a shadow of the man that he had once been. Parts machine kept his heart beating and kept whatever vital parts of his body that hadn’t been damaged in the fight with his brother alive.

His existence wasn’t anything that Genji would still call a life. He didn’t feel _alive_ anymore. He functioned when he had to when an order came, he had executed it down to the smallest detail. Killing without remorse, killing the last remaining pieces of his human soul and tainting the rest with blood.

And now this monk, this stranger, was smiling at him, telling him that…’ ** _they_** ’ ‘ ** _both_** ’ lived? Who did he mean with ‘they’? His brother? He knew already that his brother was alive! After all, it had been Genji who had refused to raise his sword against his brother when he had attacked him. And the man had gone into hiding ever since then.  
What was it that Zenyatta had seen just now that he was looking so exhausted and yet at the same time the man was radiating happiness? It made Genji sick and his scowl darkened.

 **“Do you think this is all a joke?”** , Genji hissed, reaching for the orb still floating over his shoulder and grabbing it, yanking it down but the golden light stayed connected to his body, spreading its warmth to his palm instead.

**“I should have never come here…It’s all been a mistake.”**

The words left the cyborg without any spite, only a man at the verge of completely breaking apart speaking them into the cold air. Grasping the orb tightly in his palm he felt the pain in the cut on his palm as his knuckles turned white from how much strength he was using.  
**“I wish I had died all these years ago…”  
**The words were spoken more to himself than to Zenyatta, his gaze flickering only briefly up to the man’s face before blinking and refocusing on the orb in his palm, thinking how this little thing had been able to keep the nightmares at bay and also heal his lungs.

**“I will forever be alone now…”**

* * *

Zenyatta’s gaze snapped up, the vitriol behind Genji’s rebuttal startling him out of his daze so fast he thought he might still have been falling.  
No impact came beside the harsh reality of the cyborg’s words slamming into his mind despite the tears still staining his face, the smile he had exhibited slowly beginning to fade.

**“I-I know, but I was concerned that you were going to-”**

His hasty explanation was soon drowned in a cacophony of verbal aggression, and barely able to move, much less push himself to his feet, the monk simply rolled aside, managing to dig his fingers into the uncompacted snow pulling himself into a sitting position against the small bank he had landed on face down.  
Genji was still shouting, becoming more distressed by the second and his verbal assault showed no signs of waning. If Zenyatta did nothing they would soon have an audience, and the last thing he wished was for someone to assume the worst and attempt to take Genji down.

 **“Genji, you have to listen to me, I know what I saw, I’ve seen it bef-”  
**But it was no use, the man was on a tirade and he wasn’t about to stop now, screaming barely coherent incredulity at Zenyatta like it was writ, as though he knew exactly what glimpse into the past, future and present the monk had witnessed. The Iris was a complex force, its abilities mysterious, even to those who studied it as closely as the Shambali. Mondatta himself knew there were still untapped depths to its myriad being, the wealth of its warmth, limitless.  
**“I would never think _any_ of this is a joke, it has been on my mind from the moment I saw the dying man in my dream, the dragon, and… I think I understand it now.”**

Why couldn’t Genji see it, why was he stuck in this never-ending cycle of pain? The concept of freedom was so simple to Zenyatta, so tangible and its light radiant; why did Genji turn away from it? He seemed more content to slink back into the shadows, the shackles of his past anchoring him to that image of a dead man, of the part of his soul that watched over and mourned his loss, a flickering flame in the wind itself.

 **“The man I saw was you.”**  
Zenyatta said, the edge to his voice gone, along with the smile that had melted away to unreadable uncertainty. It was already established, albeit silently, that the man he had seen had been Genji, yet at the time Zenyatta couldn’t have said with any certainty that this was not simply a metaphor, that the dragon did not have some other meaning and the shadow lording its superiority, its bitter triumph, over the entirety of the scene, was the one to have caused all of the devastation.  
He had not the time to contemplate it, not when Genji seemed intent on running himself into destruction. The trickle of mental pain he felt coming from the wrenching of the orb, his connection to it temporarily severed in the half a second it took to snatch the sphere from the air and clutch it tightly - _too tightly_ \- in flesh and blood hand. The orb’s song, once so soothing, became muted, discordant and unrecognizable, to such a length that Zenyatta felt his mood shift uncomfortably.  
The monk could hear the metal groan and clink under the pressure of being compressed, the cyborg’s knuckles trembling, stressed, turning white with the blood unable to reach the too-tense-muscles. Shaking his head free of the hot drip, drip, drip he felt bleeding through his control, Zenyatta tried to rise, unsteady and clumsy on his unstable feet, but it was not enough to prevent him from making the potentially fatal mistake of gently, deliberately taking hold of Genji’s wrist.

Fingers, sure and confident, inched their way down towards Genji’s own, soft and precise in their bid to pry his grip a little looser. One by one he nudged at the digits, until the orb’s stifled, once distorted, song began to ring true and clear again.  
The monk did not dare meet Genji’s eyes, allow him to see the frustration, his insistence; the fear of saying one wrong word now practically strangling his self-control. It wanted out, it needed to speak what had to be said.

**“You did not allow me to finish. _Please_ , hear me out.”**

And oh, how weak those words sounded to his own ears, how unsure would they have sounded to Genji?  
Zenyatta’s heart still raced, even as he slowly began to withdraw his hand, palm open, fingers delicately spread, placating in silence. Genji spoke of death, his own death, the mistakes he had made in coming here, how this was all wrong, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. His grief, Zenyatta knew, blinded him to everything he could be if he would only reach out and take a hold of his life.  
The life that the cyborg, himself, did not believe he had.

 **“Th-The Iris, it shows us many things, what was, what is, some claim it has even shown to them what could be.”  
**He had not experienced the latter, and for that much, perhaps, Zenyatta was incredibly grateful. To know the future was to know that the Shambali were false in their ideals, because the future was always in motion, always capable of change. Nothing was finite.  
And with the wave of a hand, the orb had risen from Genji’s hand, to resume its constant vigil above the man’s shoulder, bobbing around in the thin, cool, mountain air.

 **“I was not seeing your past, I was not seeing your future, I…I just misunderstood. Genji, the dragon does not mourn for you because you are dead.”**   
Zenyatta’s brow was furrowed, gaze lost somewhere in the distance, seeing it all play out in his mind’s eye.  
**“He mourns because you are _lost.”_**

**_“-Zenyatta?”_ **

Zenyatta’s eyes came back into focus upon the tall, lithe, figure of his teacher standing at the threshold to the monastery’s main entrance, hands resting upon the frozen, ancient, stone of the overlook, watching the scene unfold before him. There was no telling how long Mondatta had been there, but his demeanour was not that of someone who had just witnessed his student literally risking his life to discover truths he could have gleaned with just a tad more patience. 

The scene did look incredibly suspicious, however, with the remainder of his orbs laying in a chaotic pattern around him in the snow, all the signs of the disturbed powder around Zenyatta, the fact his student was _knee-deep_ in the snow, to begin with. And then there was the small matter of the raised voices Mondatta had heard from inside the entrance hall.  
It did not take a detective to work out an altercation had happened, and there stood Zenyatta, all sweetness and light, trying to behave as if Mondatta would not notice the tense posture or the subtle pulse and twitch of shaky, stressed muscles.

**“Genji, Fon informed me you were feeling a little better today. Well enough for a walk, I see?”**

* * *

Genji tried to listen to Zenyatta’s words calmly but they made no sense to him. How could the monk have been able to see what he had seen and what he had seen before? And when? 

Being so lost in his dark thoughts, Genji didn’t notice Zenyatta moving towards him. His lungs burning and the wet trails of his tears drying in the cold air around him, leaving behind an icy trail down his skin that soon felt like his skin was being ripped from his bones. 

The image of his dragon holding his bleeding body still haunting his mind and his body began to shake both from the cold and the exhaustion of his breakdown. Why was his life such a mess? Why had he not said “no” when Overwatch found him and offered to help him get his life back? His desperate wish of being able to walk again, to live, had been so strong back then but it soon died when he realized what his body had become after the extensive surgeries.

Staring at his mechanical legs and his hand resting on top of it he felt bile rise from his stomach and he gagged briefly before the cyborg was able to get a hold of himself again and push the disgust down, gripping the golden orb tighter again trying and anchor himself to _something_. The small feather in his hand slowly fell to the ground beside his legs, as he balled his hand into a fist.

That was the moment when he suddenly felt cold, wet fingers at his wrist. His entire body jerked, and he whipped his head up to look at Zenyatta suddenly being so close to him. 

**“What-?!”** , he asked, staring at the point at which they connected, skin on skin. His flesh was cold from being outside for some time and the skin cooling rapidly now that the sweat was cooling from the cold air around them.  
Genji didn’t press on with his question, not knowing what it had been that he wanted to ask when Zenyatta’s hand slowly, softly travelled down his skin to his fingers, nudging them open and away from the orb he was still holding. He let the monk move his fingers, watching in awe as those delicate, precise movements pried the orb from his grasp and when he heard the weak words coming from Zenyatta Genji gasped audibly in the silent air around them. 

A part of his brain screamed at him to jerk away, to pull his hand free from the touch of the monk. That he was tainting him with the touch to his scarred and ruined skin. But a much smaller part, a part that Genji usually pushed deep down into his subconscious, whispered to him to allow this to happen. That it felt _nice_ to be touched by someone else. Even when they were both cold and wet from the snow around them.

Too caught up in the feeling of the touch to his skin he doesn’t resist the opening of his palm, simply watching Zenyatta’s hands work his fingers loose, thinking about the differences between their skins. Zenyatta’s skin was much darker than his own, almost having a golden hue to it, the fingers not soft and delicate but a little rough from the daily chores but nevertheless soft while applying some force to move Genji’s fingers. 

All too soon Genji felt Zenyatta’s hands move away from his own, the orb now floating above his shoulder once again, softly chiming. The cyborg hadn’t noticed that the song had stopped when he had grasped it so tightly and he felt himself relax slightly again, now that the song had continued. 

Looking up at Zenyatta, holding up his hands openly to appease Genji but the man didn’t hold any anger against the monk anymore. Listening to the words he spoke he felt himself become even more confused about whatever this Iris was supposed to be? How could it be able to show the past? Genji had never been much of a believer in anything, even though he had been raised with it as a child, but he could simply not settle his mind on the idea of a higher being, a god or many gods, watching over humanity. So, what was this Iris exactly?

His mind being all over the place Genji heard Zenyatta’s words but couldn’t comprehend them. How could his dragon be alive and mourn for him, for what he became when he had just seen him die? When he was the one who hadn’t felt its presence since the day he ‘died’? What reason would he have to stay away when he so clearly wanted to be connected to Genji again? Had his nightmare a couple of nights ago been more than just a dream and had maybe been his dragon trying to reach out to him? 

Watching Zenyatta kneel in front of him, Genji only noticed that his cybernetic hand was trailing over the wrist of his human hand, slowly following the path that Zenyatta’s fingers had taken, when he looked down into his lap once again. Noticing his hand moving he quickly snatched it away to settle back in his lap but the empty feeling inside of him, the feeling that yearned for touch was not calmed that easily. 

Without thinking about his actions Genji looked back up at Zenyatta, focusing on his face to be able to read the monk’s reaction and react quickly if he was overstepping a line that he didn’t know where it lay. Moving his human hand forward he reached for Zenyatta’s hand that was still hanging in the air.  
It almost seemed like the air and time around them stopped for the moment. Genji held his breath until his fingertips softly touched the ones of the man in front of him. Trailing them down the open palm he kept the contact soft but still felt shivers run up his arm and it made the hairs at his neck stand up. 

He slowly released the air he had been holding when nothing more happened, Zenyatta’s skin didn’t fall from his bones, the man didn’t fall sick and no blood was smeared over the open palm of the monk. Feeling a little bolder Genji pressed his palm flat against Zenyatta’s and his breath quickened when he felt the slight warmth of their skin mingle.

**“- _Zenyatta_?”**

The voice of the older monk carrying across the courtyard made Genji jump and he immediately pulled his hand away from Zenyatta’s, turning away from him and creating some distance between them like he had suddenly been burned by Zenyatta.

Looking towards Mondatta he wondered how much of the scene the older monk had been able to witness and if it would have consequences with the older man.  
Genji couldn’t stop himself from feeling unsettled by Mondatta finding them, interrupting whatever it was that they had just shared. Why was it always Mondatta who found them? The cyborg couldn’t quite place the feeling yet once again the word ‘jealousy’ came to mind.

And was Mondatta not able to see that they were quite clearly not doing a casual walk? What was the older monk aiming at with his question?  
**“...”** , Genji didn’t know what to answer to that. He didn’t want to admit to running from Zenyatta, to having another of his visions, to Zenyatta doing whatever it was that he had done. 

Pushing himself up on shaky legs he staggered to the side, his legs cold and the mechanics not working smoothly anymore. Falling against the nearest wall he hissed in pain when he caught his entire weight with his shoulder. He felt the insane urge to run from this conversation, from Mondatta and his questions and from Zenyatta and whatever it was that had happened between them. His flight instinct made him tense and on edge, eyeing his surroundings for a way out like an animal trapped in a corner.

* * *

Maybe he was expecting another outburst, the cyborg lashing out, perhaps knocking him back to the ground before he tore away and never looked back. Perhaps he expected nothing - Zenyatta would never know because what happened defied all his expectations and placed him in a frame of mind he had been trying to avoid since this man’s arrival.

Oh, he knew what it was like to suffer, to be so completely consumed by your hatred that you began to destroy yourself from the inside out. Then, above all times, the world and its army seemed like your mortal enemy. But he had had help, guidance, that Genji had lacked since his terrible ordeal, he felt truly alone because he _had_ been alone all this time, and now…

Now he had the support of the Shambali if he wished it to be so.

One glance at the man who had shambled out here, forlorn and weak and ready to tear himself apart piece by fragile piece if that was what it took, and it would be safe to assume he did not wish to be helped. Yet as he had seemed set to rebuke the young monk’s attempts to quell his raging tempest of a fury, Zenyatta could feel the tension cording in Genji’s tightly wound limbs begin to dissipate, draining from him like the ebbing tide through grains of sand.  
The man’s grip on the orb allowed the monk to carefully extricate it from his hold, finger by slowly relinquishing finger, its song returning to the fore as it took flight again, hovering serenely where it had positioned itself prior to the other man’s outburst. Zenyatta’s eyes followed its path, diligent and watchful until Genji shattered his fledgeling calm as easily as a tumbling rock upon an icy pond. 

Shards of serenity fell away effortlessly, lay strewn to the wind and replaced by the electric zing of tingling synapses, all of them firing in unison, a sacred union precipitated by a touch so small and delicate, it was almost as light as a feather. Fingertips, not mechanical and twice as precise, played across his palm, fanning out to span the width and match the position of the young monk’s. Zenyatta watched, scarcely able to breathe, while Genji’s palm pressed lightly against his own, the warmth from his hand bleeding into the snow-chilled flesh of the other’s so suddenly Zenyatta expected Genji to recoil as if struck by a bolt of electricity.

He certainly felt it, the electric pulse, eddy and flow, that ignited his senses, quickened his pulse. And with it came the feeling he had been running from since that interesting encounter in the baths. It was always there, truth be told, from the moment Genji had almost opened up to him, coiling in his belly, waiting for a chance to strike, to take hold of his thoughts and steer them down a road that was, much to his silent dismay, less than pure and twice as incomprehensible to him.

But what could he do but deny it, push it down deep inside and hope it never found cause to rise again? He certainly couldn’t ask Mondatta for advice.

The Iris, as ever, was perceptive and mysterious, it worked in ways he would, perhaps, never fully comprehend, and true to form, no sooner had his mind tripped over the last syllables of his master’s name than the deep and calming tones of the man himself could be heard somewhere behind him.

**“Zenyatta, what are you doing down there, is everything alright?”**

The younger monk jerked his hand away so fast it couldn’t have appeared as anything other than a blur from that far away. Evidently, Genji recoiled similarly, his augmented, crimson, eyes darting towards the concourse and its grandiose entrance, the flapping of the fabric in the brisk mountain winds disguising Zenyatta’s quiet sound of disconcerted anxiety.

He needed to move, to act, the elder was already concerned.

 **“I…I…”** _Slipped, was looking for something, was helping Genji when I fell over_. All perfectly reasonable answers and all answers his traitorous tongue couldn’t quite wrap itself around.  
**“Your orbs”** , Mondatta called out again, arm gesturing to the scattered golden spheres, each one laying glistening, bright against the reflective snow.

Behind him, he could hear the rhythmic crunch of footsteps in the snow approaching them. The worried Shambali leader tromping his way through the fresh powder so fast, he had given little care to the now sodden hems of his kasaya, soaked by the moisture as the crystals began to melt against the heavy fabric.

Zenyatta felt his panic begin to rise, yet he had been unable to tear his gaze away from the very-alert cyborg opposite him, trapped like an animal in some kind of invisible snare, he couldn’t understand what gripped him. He had done nothing wrong, had he?  
_Calm_ , he needed to focus, slow his thudding pulse, which was now beating so steadily he was sure anyone could have seen it in his throat.  
Mondatta was almost upon him by the time the man’s student had managed to wrest some self-control from the darkened depths of his devious mind and wrenched it free.

The master’s hand pressed firmly against Zenyatta’s fabric-clad shoulder, leaning around the younger man inquiringly. Concern had long since knitted his eyebrows, the hurried gait pure worry, and thankfully for Genji, he was not about to foist any false accusation their guest’s way.  
**“Is it your legs?”**

Something inside him snapped free of the barriers holding his consciousness prisoner, allowing Zenyatta to nod a few, hasty, times, the motion quick and stiff, his eyes now flitting to the snow-covered ground. The younger’s lips parted, words budding on the tip of his tongue, and just as before, these would not fall either, initially. It was a gesture that proved more convincing than he could have known, a gesture Mondatta mistook for shame.

**“Ah, this is my fault, I should not have pushed you so hard yesterday. I had no idea they were in such bad shape again.”**

The Shambali leader glanced over at Genji, seemingly oblivious to the moment both he and his student had been sharing seconds before.  
**“Are you well enough to help me get him back inside?”** , he asked, returning his fussing to the presumably injured party.

Zenyatta felt his face begin to burn up, the mental constipation holding him back only second to the frustration of his body betraying him. If he looked ashamed it was because he felt it. But he had no choice but to go along with this ruse if it meant he would have a silent moment alone to contemplate what, exactly, this was.  
And as a comforting arm was placed around him, one hand seeking to slip beneath his own, his voice finally broke free.

 ** _“I-It’s ok_** **…I’m ok, I…I think they just froze up in the snow. We came to get some fresh air, they froze up and I fell…that’s all.”** Fingers, nimble and slender, began to pick some of the packed-in snow free from the otherwise well-maintained knee joint. **“Genji saw me fall and was helping me get the ice out.”  
**Zenyatta’s eyes flashed the cyborg a silent plea. But why…what did they have to hide but nothing?

 **“I’m ok”** , Mondatta’s student reiterated, managing to placate his master enough to get him to rescind the arm.  
Mondatta straightened again, still appearing less than convinced, but at least not fussing his student like a mother hen. It was now that his gaze dropped and he tutted at the state of his kasaya - scarcely into the afternoon and he was already a mess.  
**“Regardless, we should get out of the cold. _All_ of us.”**

Genji had since staggered to one side, holding his weight awkwardly as he attempted to prop himself up. This had not gone unnoticed by the Shambali leader either, who tutted and shook his head when he glanced over at the, now exceedingly tense, cyborg.

**“We could all use the warmth, and you can accompany us to the workshop, Genji…if you are able. It would be beneficial to your wellbeing, I believe.”**

* * *

Genji’s breath was still going too fast, his heart still hammering loudly in his chest and the feeling of its beating almost painful against his ribcage. Whatever it was that had just happened between him and Zenyatta it was certainly nothing casual. The tingling sensation still seemed to be travelling over Genji’s skin. The urge to touch the monk again, to touch _more_ of the soft skin became almost unbearable now that Genji knew the man would not be hurt by his touch.

With his entire body on high alert, Genji watched Mondatta walk over the courtyard towards the two of them. How much had the older monk seen? Had he been there when the cyborg had touched his pupil? Would he say anything about it?  
Genji’s mind was going a hundred miles per hour, thinking over the possible answers he could give Mondatta about what had happened.

The cyborg looked over to Zenyatta trying to find an anchor, needing to focus on the man’s usual calmness. But once his eyes settled on the monk’s face Genji was shocked to see nothing of the calm there. His eyes were blown wide in panic, looking back at him as if he was searching for an anchor in Genji?!

Looking into each other’s eyes, Genji noticed the slight shift in Zenyatta when the man did find some calm, just before Mondatta kneeled next to him, touching his shoulder and voicing his worry.  
Something inside of Genji tensed when he saw the casual way in which Mondatta was touching Zenyatta, the same dark waves of emotions starting to crash into him as they had last night when the older monk had carried Zenyatta away from him.

Genji could only stare at the two of them in front of him, keeping his body pressed against the wall, not knowing what he should do in a situation such as this. His emotions were still going crazy inside his mind and the tiredness pressed into him more and more. The fact that he hadn’t slept at all the night before was catching up on him after his body had just experienced another breakdown. Staring ahead blankly at the two monks Genji followed their conversation while trying, and failing, to get his heartbeat under control again.

**_“Are you well enough to help me get him back inside?”_ **

The question coming from Mondatta shook Genji out of his stupor and he straightened his body slightly against the wall, his shoulder throbbing in protest where he had crashed against the stone.

Mondatta turned back to Zenyatta even before Genji even had the chance to speak, to reply to his question and just as he wanted to try again, he watched Mondatta reach for Zenyatta again. Just like last night when the man had been sleeping on the cot opposite of Genji’s  
something snapped inside of Genji, red and hot it coursed through his veins and an almost growling sound slipped from his throat as he watched Mondatta touch so casually, without even thinking about it, what the cyborg so strongly craves.  
Hearing Zenyatta’s voice for the first time since Mondatta had reached his side was like a balm to Genji’s sudden emotions. Listening to the soft, melodic voice trying to sooth the older monk’s worry helped Genji regain some control over himself and when the younger man looked towards him he felt…safe. And yet the entire situation still felt like the two of them are trying to hide a big secret.

No words came from the cyborg even when Zenyatta finally managed to convince Mondatta that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The man had simply fallen. Nothing happened. And yet Genji knew better. The tingle on his skin still reminding him.

Only when the older monk stood up straight again did Genji’s eyes seek out Zenyatta again, not noticing how Mondatta’s gaze was now resting on him. When he heard the monk speak his name, Genji slowly tore his eyes away from Zenyatta who by now was slowly trying to get up again.  
  
Everything inside of the cyborg screamed at him to help, to touch, to carry the man back inside into the warmth but his own body was barely holding itself up, he would never be able to help Zenyatta like this.

Looking to the ground in front of him he noticed one of the man’s orbs close to him, the other seven lying all over the place and out of reach of the cyborg. The one connected to his shoulder still softly chiming and trying to soothe the man’s turbulent mind.

Staggering forward and towards the orb, he slowly leaned down to pick them up and cradle them against his body, he had to wait a moment before getting back up when everything around him suddenly seemed to be spinning again, his head pounding and white dots appearing in his sight. He should be going inside again, his infection tightening its grip on Genji once again.

 **“I shall…accompany you”** , he spoke towards Mondatta once he was standing straight again, trying not to sway too much and to appear in better shape than he felt he was. The last thing Genji wanted to do right now was to leave Zenyatta with the older monk. Something inside of him forbid him to leave the man’s side now, even if that meant suffering through the effects of his infection and not being able to sleep for a couple more hours. He had been through worse than this.

Standing away from the wall now, he looked over at Zenyatta who was by now standing as well, softly patting down his kasaya and trying to free it from the ice and snow that had collected itself on the wet fabric. Everything inside of Genji still screamed at him to walk over to the man and _touch_ , to get this feeling back that had filled him when their hands had touched so gently. Wondering what it would feel like if he touched the man’s shoulder…his cheek…his chest.

A sudden intense blush filled Genji’s cheeks when images of him touching Zenyatta with his hands all of a sudden changed to him kissing along the man’s neck and chest, exploring his body. A shiver ran through his entire body and he gasped audibly when the tingling from his hand travelled through his body.  
A feeling that the cyborg had not been able to feel in a very, very long time starting to blossom in his stomach and his face turned into a confused snarl when it all collected in the pit of his lower stomach.

Ever since he has been made into the machine that he was now Genji had not been able to feel any arousal. In the beginning, his body had still tried to react to certain touches, a natural reaction to certain thoughts. But he had felt disgusted with himself and his bodies reactions for the first time in his life. Never before had he felt like this, he had always been proud of the body that he had, had done a lot to keep it in shape. He had always enjoyed his body’s reaction to things, enjoyed sex and the many pleasures of the body. Now every time he looked down at himself, he was reminded of what he had become and the fact that no one would ever desire him again with the way he was now.

It had been several years since he had last felt the soft tingle of pleasure run through his body and looking at Zenyatta in something akin to surprise he wondered what it was that made this man so special…why his body had such a strong reaction to him and why it felt like he was already addicted to the man’s touch when just yesterday he had jerked away from it like he had been burned.

* * *

This was worse than he could have accounted for, but Zenyatta was in too deep to back out now. Lying to Mondatta was not the course of action he should have been taking, and with such an easy method of discovering the truth mere meters away from their current spot, he understood the full ramifications of the risk. And still, he persisted, because what else could he do?

Iris, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to be covering up!  
**“Put your arm around me”** , Mondatta was instructing, slipping his own beneath Zenyatta’s, preparing to lift the younger monk for support.  
**“Fon is in the workshop today, I will take full responsibility for his fussing.”**

For once, Zenyatta would welcome it. Fon’s mother hen routine would draw all of the attention away from himself and onto the task at hand, giving his legs a thorough tune-up. Genji, wisely so, had chosen to decline helping Zenyatta make his way there, although his presence, accompanying them, was as curious to Mondatta’s student as it was intriguing. He could have gone anywhere in this monastery, returned to the infirmary for a rest, even taken himself to the baths, yet he had chosen to stick with Zenyatta, and this both flustered and bothered the monk, greatly.

On Mondatta’s behest, Zenyatta rose with aid, slowly straightening his knees from their crooked position. What he wished was to create a convincing act, that at least if they appeared to be stiff in the joints, his legs really would be given the blame and Genji’s secret would be safe with him.  
But was it a secret? He had had a vision, yes, but the means he had used to glean such a thing was forbidden to him. There would be no explaining himself, no support from his master, no means of discovering the truth besides alone…and then there was the small matter of convincing Genji that what he had seen was as real to him as the first time he had dreamed of that poor, dying, beast.

 **“If you would not mind, Genji, please get the door”** , Mondatta had been speaking this entire time, small epithets and reassurances that went unheard by Zenyatta, checking back over his shoulder to make sure that Genji had not succumbed to his own dubiously teetering health.  
The older monk turned back to glance at his student, who’s complexion had deepened in hue. His eyes were fixated on the floor, the occasional twitch or flicker in Mondatta’s direction, betraying what the older man took to be shame.

Oh, how his heart ached when he considered all that Zenyatta had been through, how, even now, some years on, the events of the fateful night that had ended in the loss of his natural legs, he was still plagued by the demons of his past. Maybe one day he would find a way to erase them. Mondatta would have taken them all on, had he been able, the price of the burden was nothing next to his student’s pain.*  
Tentative and with all his empathy, he gently squeezed Zenyatta’s shoulder, pulling his student harder against him for what was little more than a sidelong hug. How plagued by the events of that night had his student been? He thought of it often, of the sacrifices he had made with regards to it himself. The price had been paid, he barely had to blink, but even now, Mondatta knew he would make the same decision again if it meant Zenyatta would live. The young man’s eyes momentarily locked with his, before immediately looking anywhere but his master’s face.

Mondatta huffed a breath, the wind thoroughly knocked out of his proverbial sails. He needed a moment alone to speak with Zenyatta properly, it was highly doubtful that the younger man would appreciate that talk with Genji present. And that brought to light the interesting behaviour of the other quite prominently. The Shimada heir had been all too ready to recoil when he had heard Mondatta call out to them, stepping away from Zenyatta as though he had been burned. A pity, he thought, he had rather hoped that his student would be able to get through to him.

The older monk leaned in towards the younger, murmuring a few calming words, audible only to Zenyatta’s ears.  
**“You should have come to me if you were struggling, I had no idea this still ailed you”** Foolishly, perhaps, he surmised after a thought, of course, it would have still bothered him.  
Zenyatta did not respond, save to dip his head in apology, tugging at Mondatta’s heartstrings even more than he had to begin with.

The group turned into the monastery, taking the moderate distance at a slower pace to allow both Genji and Zen enough time to get there. It was slow-going, the silence near-deafening, what with Genji holding his tongue and Zenyatta doing likewise, he had to wonder if it was something he had said. The workshop was on the opposite side of the building to the infirmary, serving as the latter for the omnic members of their order. Inside was a rather modest room, with workbenches in place of beds, spare parts instead of medicinal items. What remained the constant between the two different spaces, was that Fon was here as well, fussing, just as he had been over Genji when he had arrived.

It must have taken a nanosecond for the aging omnic to realize just whom Mondatta was helping in through the open door, before all of his optics lit up in unison, flaring slightly as the subtle hum of his fans picked up and he was hurrying them towards one of the benches, practically hauling the dazed and confused Zenyatta away from his master, hoisting him up into the air enough that his backside cleared the bench, then settling him down on top. A split second more, and the young man’s face was being cupped and worried by two, large, metal hands, each as gentle as their flesh and blood namesakes.

**“What happened, are you injured, did you slip on the ice again? Zenyatta, I warned you about the dangers of walking the mountain paths before I can find you replacement grips for your feet!”**

**“It was not the ice”** , Mondatta interrupted, observing some of the tension drain from his stressed student’s frame.  
**“I found him kneeling in the snow, I believe his joints are failing him again.”  
**The omnic hummed and tutted, disapproving. If Mondatta had allowed him, he would have walked the several day treks down the mountain to locate just what Zenyatta required. However, up here, such spares and supplies were limited, to say the least.  
But all this was circumstantial, hearing it from the horse’s mouth was another matter entirely, and he knew Zenyatta, had watched him grow from the time he was a small boy to the young man he had become. If something was bothering him, Fon _knew_.  
And he also knew that this silence would be all they would receive until such a time as Zenyatta worked out what it was that was bothering him so.  
The omnic’s joints squealed as he turned his head towards Genji now, optics blinking in consternation.

 **“Was he with you when this occurred?”** , he asked, **“What happened, exactly?”  
**Maybe he had been too harsh on Zenyatta, his fatigue suggested there was more than just a case of simple insomnia bothering him. This man was like a son to him, or as close as an omnic came to be having a true family. He had found him, raised him and when the time had come, introduced him to the Shambali in the hope his aptitude for venerating the light in this world would eventually culminate in him becoming a shining beacon himself.  
And then Taru had happened…

Fon’s gears issued a grinding sound, he would not speak of it, not while Mondatta was here. He, above all of those involved, had taken that event hard. Their leader had not been the same since, yet he might never know why. Zenyatta claimed he did not know either and Fon was not about to pry, but he did suspect that for all his denial, the younger monk knew exactly what had transpired.  
The omnic stood waiting for Genji’s response, only to realize that he, himself, was not exactly in the best shape. How short-sighted of him, he was not on true form today.

 **“Forgive me, I do not wish to give you the third degree. I am aware your organic infection is still causing you discomfort, but if there is anything mechanical I can help out with, please take a moment to check our cupboards for spares.”  
**The complexity of Genji’s makeup was what concerned him. Should something malfunction, where would they find spare parts of that quality? He was comprised of components so good, that Fon’s memory banks held no data on them whatsoever.

Zenyatta remained mostly motionless, fingers twisting and curling into the fabric of his robes, anxiously gnawing at his lower lip to such a degree he would eventually draw blood if he did not cease. Even Mondatta lacked his usual regimental poise and composure, scarcely taking a hand off his student as though he was afraid Zenyatta might fall apart if he did so.

The omnic leaned across and placed a hand over Mondatta’s, a silent gesture that allowed him to relinquish his vice-hold on that shoulder.  
**“Scans show that he has no internal or external injuries. I did so the second you walked in the door.”**  
He went to move away, taking hold of a small, precision, wrench from the bench drawer, pausing to turn back to face Mondatta.  
**“But you really do need to get your eyesight tested. I do not know how you manage to read half as much as you do.”**

Mondatta blanched, visibly resisting the urge to roll his eyes.  
**“I will do it upon my next trip, Fon. Thank you.”  
**A dip of his head. Fon meant no disrespect and Mondatta would give him none.

 **“Please…”  
**Zenyatta, it seemed, had recovered his voice.  
**“I’m fine, it must have just been ice stuck in the joints again. I wasn’t thinking. Please…I can do the tune-up alone.”  
**Eyes, the colour of light amber, flitted towards the cyborg opposite.  
**“Genji and I have things to do, I…I will be fine once I reset the seal.”**

He wouldn’t figure this out alone, but it wouldn’t do to lie to the others indefinitely. If he did so, a quick scan would prove he was being deceitful, and more suspicion would land firmly on his head.  
And there it was again; the twisting knot in his belly, the flutter that attempted to find its way around his sensibilities, and he did not, for the life of him, understand it.

* * *

Shaking himself out of the intense emotions that were washing over his body suddenly, Genji straightened himself, schooling his features. Shivering slightly, not sure if it was from the pleasant feeling still rushing over his skin or the cold that his brain was finally picking up on again.

He felt a knot form in his stomach and the uneasy feeling returned as he watched Mondatta help Zenyatta up and put an arm around the younger monk. The impulse to walk over to Zenyatta and pull him away, offering the young man his own body to lean against was rising inside of him again and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making any more growling noises.

The cyborg met Mondatta’s glance with hard eyes, not giving away any of the turmoil the feelings inside of him were causing. It was bad enough that Zenyatta had most likely noticed the shift in Genji, he did not need the older monk to be aware of it.

Faintly Genji registered the monk’s request for him to get the door so Mondatta would not have to let go of his student, but the cyborg was rooted to the spot for a moment longer as he watched the two in front of him. The intimacy between them was visible and every slight move, every squeeze of a shoulder made Genji’s insides clench and twist.

Seeing Zen turn his head to the side after Mondatta leaned in closer to him, murmuring words that not even Genji’s advanced hearing had been able to pick up, was the last straw for something inside of Genji to snap. Imagining all the sweet, loving words Mondatta must have whispered to the younger man, words that were embarrassing Zenyatta enough to turn his head away from his master.

Stumbling forward, trying to keep himself steady on his feet and walking a straight line towards the door Mondatta had begun to guide Zenyatta to. Pushing it open with a soft grunt he held it open until the two of them had entered and letting it slowly shut behind him before he turned to follow the monks. He didn’t recognize the corridors they passed until they turned a corner and passed by the room that the cyborg was calling his for now.  
Briefly, the thought of slipping inside and finally trying to get some sleep passed through Genji’s mind but his stubbornness forbids it. He was still holding on to two of Zenyatta’s orbs while one of them floated over his shoulder. Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep now anywhere, not with knowing that Mondatta was holding what he felt like was _his_ to touch.

The thought startled Genji and he stopped in his tracks again. Zenyatta wasn’t ‘ _his’_. He didn’t even know the man for longer than a couple of days and only a few moments ago had he initiated any touch between them for the first time. So where were all these strange thoughts coming from and why were they suddenly to prominent in his mind? Clearly, Zenyatta was with Mondatta and Genji was still just a guest, a refugee, a _patient_ in these halls.

Stumbling after the two monks with a small distance, taking a break to catch his breath from time to time, leaning heavily against the stone walls Genji hoped that they would soon reach the workshop. The stones felt good against his heated skin every time that he took a short break and he realized that the fever must be returning with the way that he felt both hot and cold at the same time and his fans sounded louder than they had when they had been outside still.

Finally arriving at the workshop, the cyborg watched Fon take Zenyatta away from Mondatta and placing him on one of the benches nearby. Hovering in the open door, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do now or where he could sit.  
He watched the two monks interact with the omnic, trying to figure out the dynamics between the two until Fon’s voice was suddenly directed at him and the omnic faced his way.

**“I-…”**

Genji had wanted to reply but Fon must have already realized the shape Genji was in and continued talking, dismissing the cyborg and allowing him to venture into the workshop.

Slowly he moved along the walls, looking at the different spare parts in the various cupboards and frowning at them. He had set down the two orbs he had been carrying on the first bench he came across in the room.  
He had no idea about the makeup of his own body. He only knew that Dr Ziegler – _Angela_ \- had told him that everything should be working at peak performance as long as nothing was seriously damaged. But Genji wasn’t sure if the doctor of Overwatch had made sure that organic infections wouldn’t affect his cybernetic parts. He wasn’t supposed to get sick. He was supposed to function, to go on missions and do as he was told. There was no room for human flaws, he was specially designed to be above these.

Looking down at his hands, moving first his cybernetic one slowly and then his human one, he felt bile rise at the back of his throat at the sudden memory of the heavy surgeries he had been put through to attach the many cybernetic parts to whatever was left of his organic body. The bandages around his left hand looked dirty and were soaked and cold against his palm, surely not good for the wound beneath it but Genji couldn’t care less about it.

Still keeping track of the conversation behind him Genji visible tensed when Fon mentioned the scans he had conducted on both Zenyatta and Mondatta. How much was the omnic able to analyze of Genji? Was he able to see just how little human was left inside of him? Was the omnic able to tell that even on the inside many of his organs had been modified so they could continue their work?

Hearing Zenyatta’s voice again, after he had been silent for so long calmed Genji and he slowly turned towards the monks, resting his lower back against one of the workbenches. Letting the wood take much of his weight he started to feel the exhaustion creep up on him and his vision swimming in front of him. His eyelids feeling like stone and dropping closed before he jerked them open again, trying to focus on Zenyatta.  
He was surprised by the words younger monk spoke and it must have clearly shown on his face because both Fon and Mondatta exchanged looks and looked back and forth between the two of them. Genji concentrated on Zenyatta, trying to ignore the other two in the room and anchoring himself to the young monk.

He didn’t feel like talking about whatever had happened between him and Zenyatta out there on the courtyard, about what they had both seen, about what Zenyatta had said about his dragon. But the cyborg couldn’t deny the urge that was still taunting his mind. The need to touch, to hold, to **_be_** with Zenyatta.  
Maybe…just maybe…if they were to have time to themselves Genji would be able to touch Zenyatta again. Touch that golden skin and feel the warmth that was coming from a light inside the man, something that Genji had never seen anywhere in his life before. A light that seemed to draw Genji in like a moth that was drawn to a flame. But would that light burn Genji, just like a moth found its death by flying too close to the flame, or would he be able to find comfort and warmth with it?

Genji knew he was expected to say something, anything. Agree that the two of them had something to do, something they had previously arranged so that Zenyatta didn’t seem like he was lying. But would Mondatta and especially Fon, who cared so deeply for the young monk, let Zenyatta go with Genji? A stranger who was in much worse shape than Zenyatta?

 **“I-…I can help him with his legs. I know…some things about cybernetics”** , Genji spoke up, straightening himself and trying his best to stop the world from spinning around himself. He wasn’t lying when he said it. He did know how to do the maintenance of cybernetic limbs. As little as he liked doing it to his own body, he had learned how to do so in case something happened on a mission and he would need to check up on himself. A pair of cybernetic legs that were much less complicated than his own would be no problem for Genji, even though he was sure that Zenyatta was competent enough to do it himself. But to get Mondatta and Fon to back off and leave them be Genji felt the need to offer his support.

And oh, how badly he wanted Mondatta to leave them, wanted the man to step away from Zenyatta and stop touching him. Instead, Genji wanted to brush over that soft skin again and feel that almost electrical current thrum through his nerves.  
Looking at Zenyatta and meeting his gaze he felt the air shift between them when their eyes met, Genji’s breath hitching at the back of his throat. He felt lost suddenly, confused by whatever was happening between them and he knew Zenyatta felt similar.

* * *

His mind revolving at a thousand miles per second, Zenyatta felt his inner self claw, desperately, at the limits of his thoughts, his body, this room. He needed to leave, take Genji with him, to find somewhere quiet where they could figure this all out. But that kind of solace came at a price, and Mondatta was concerned enough that there was absolutely no way Zenyatta was getting out of his lie without alerting Mondatta to his deception. The older monk was already so suspicious about Genji’s involvement, and Zenyatta wouldn’t let him take the blame for something he, himself, had done voluntarily.  
Touching the halo of the Iris was no paltry matter, it was a feat few could attest to having done successfully, and this he could understand perfectly. His tutor’s reaction to witnessing his student do so once was only too telling of the fate that could befall anyone, experienced or otherwise, who dared to delve too deeply into that all-encompassing light, open themselves to its whims and will. There were tales, told to the youngest and most impressionable of their order, of monks who had done so with little in the way of caution. Those tales always ended in the manner of the hapless adventurer losing his or her mind. Sometimes, were the audience particularly gregarious, the protagonist would end up dead. It was enough of a deterrent for most, but they had not felt the iris’s call.

**_“I-…I can help him with his legs. I know…some things about cybernetics”_ **

Zenyatta raised his head, gaze torn from the oil-spot on the floor he had been glued to for several, unsettling, moments now. His lips parted, just barely, the budding words sitting on the cusp of the over-spill, ready to concur, when the omnic in the room managed to beat him to it.

 **“I should hope so too. Your chassis is highly advanced, even by the most up to date omnic standards”** , Fon chirruped, sounding somewhat relieved that he wouldn’t have to figure out Genji’s complex cybernetics completely in the dark, should the need arise. That he could help Zenyatta out was a boon, perhaps he really had been too rash in judging Mondatta for leaving the cyborg in Zenyatta’s care.

 **“If you intend to stay, I would perhaps like to see to it that a few changes could be made to our maintenance station in order to better accommodate you - “  
****“Fon?”** , Zenyatta spoke up, soft, but with enough of a cautionary edge to silence the fussing omnic before he truly wound up flooding the room with another of his small-talk-barrages. He nodded to his own legs.  
**“It’s ok, Genji can take a look at them.”**

Glancing up at the cyborg, still ensconced in the deep shadow of the ornate doorway, Zenyatta offered him a warm and encouraging smile. This did not go unmissed by the room’s other occupant, Mondatta, curiously quirking a brow yet remaining silent, he wasn’t about to intervene, his concerns and anxiety stemmed from guilt, and that was something he had to master alone. Zenyatta deserved none of it, and he had not been so prudent in quashing its will in the past.

A whir of cycling servos drew attention back to the, usually, fussy Fon, still holding the spanner in one hand, his other resting over the control panel of the diagnostics tool. A nice save, considering, one scan with that device and his ruse would have been uncovered, not that his legs couldn’t be temperamental when they wished.  
The omnic’s lights flashed in an exasperated pattern, to which Zenyatta knew better than to snicker at. As amusing as Fon’s almost father- like tendencies could be, mocking them would have been downright disrespectful and earn him yet another stint reorganizing the library.

 **“Well, I suppose I am no longer needed here”** , he stated, oversized hand drifting from the diagnostics panel, its twin extending towards Genji to offer him the spanner instead.  
From across the room, the whisper of Mondatta’s robes preceded him rising to leave as well.  
**“I will accompany you, Fon. You will have to bring me up to speed on where we are at with arrangements for the upcoming trip.”**

The omnic’s systems positively purred, the steeling of his fingers before his chest plating indicating that he was, very much so, excited by the prospect of being useful again.  
**“Of course, I believe you will be delighted by the offer of hospitality extended our way”** , he enthused, nodding his goodbye to Zenyatta, and then Genji as the pair departed the room.

Softly, their footfalls began to fade as they traipsed down the hall, becoming more distant with every beat of Zenyatta’s rapidly hammering heart. He had scarcely given his alert self a break since Mondatta had found him kneeling in the snow. Found he and Genji doing…

Doing _what_ , exactly?  
And now that he could finally breathe, the monk understood just how tense he had been, the residual ache of taut muscles prominent and enough to make him knead at them with cold fingertips. Teeth worrying his lower lip, he tried to quantify what had happened between the two of them back there in the snow. Had Genji finally seen what Zenyatta had? Did he know now that his dragon, that intrinsic part of his soul, was still alive and pining for him? It was like the creature had _mourned_ for him. Maybe that was it, a shared joy, a relief so potent it had finally begun to break down the icy wall that had separated Genji from the rest of the world for longer than he’d been travelling these backwater roads.

 **“Thank you”** , Zenyatta spoke, clearing his throat loudly when the words presented themselves cloaked in hoarseness.  
**“I don’t know what I would have told them if they discovered nothing was wrong. Mondatta, he…”**  
Swallowing the already sizable lump in his throat, Zenyatta mulled over how imparting this sensitive information would be taken. Mondatta certainly didn’t want the full extent of the tale to be known. And indeed, if he, himself, had not been present, there was every chance Zenyatta wouldn’t have known it either.  
**“He feels responsible somehow.”**

Rolling his ankles a few times, the young monk flexed his mechanical feet, gently lowering them to the floor and slowly letting them take his weight while he could still hold most of it with his arms, braced against the workbench.  
The tension in the room still felt as thick as it had when they had entered, and to begin with, he had supposed it was largely down to his own anxiety, but with the pressure mostly off, it lingered, radiated, from the cyborg in the corner.  
Zenyatta wanted to ask him things, yet there were no words to describe what questions he could pose, save for ‘what was that?’ And ‘that’ was not a very good descriptor.

 **“Just…thank you, you spared me a lot of trouble. I think he believed us.”  
**Believed them because? There was nothing to hide, touching hands in the middle of the day was hardly a crime among the Shambali. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? Zenyatta had felt it like a spark had passed between them, a moment shared, a connection of sorts. It made him slightly flustered, he noticed, just like it had at the baths the day before, only perhaps to a lesser degree. Genji had passed him a jovial comment, and Zenyatta hadn’t known what to do with it. Nobody had ever paid him that kind of compliment, but then, when you spent your life inside a monastery, those kinds of comments were considered a social faux pas.

Now that his weight was fully supported by his prosthetics, he was somewhat more comfortable. The remaining weakness in his limbs would dissipate by the time he ate what was left of breakfast, nobody need ever know what he had done.

 **“I’m sorry, I’m being selfish, how are _you_ feeling?”**  
_And don’t you dare say you are fine_ \- his mind added, unspoken but felt clearly.

One, remaining orb still bobbed gaily above the cyborg’s shoulder, a ringing constant that appeared to hold the discord at bay for now, but it would lose its charge soon. He moved across the floor, one step then two, reaching out to pluck the orb from its silent vigil, only to stop short when he noticed the other resting in Genji’s hand. Its intricately carved parts, sometimes animated and free-moving, lay dormant, slightly scuffed from the fall and a few of the smaller ‘fins’ were bent inward. He would have to fix that before Mondatta noticed.  
**“We can go anywhere you wish, today. See it as my way of showing you gratitude for earlier. But first I will need to collect the rest of my orbs.”**

Genji’s infection was still a deciding factor, however, and he realized a little too late that anywhere would probably mean back to the infirmary to sleep. **“That was thoughtless of me, maybe save it for when you are feeling less…afflicted. B-but if you would like to talk…about…well, earlier?”  
**Zenyatta winced, inside and out, sleep wouldn’t leave them much time to talk, and it was that which he craved. This man was still very much a stranger to him, one he felt strangely linked to all thanks to the Iris, yet that connection, he feared, was not mutual. Their moment in the snow, however, was real, palpable, it meant _something_ , Zenyatta just didn’t know what.

He decided, there and then, he needed to find out.

Softly, he placed his hand over Genji’s, touching only the orb with his palm. Cautious, yet delicate, fingertips curled over the sphere, draping down over the orb itself to brush against the tepid flesh of Genji’s organic hand. Somehow, Zenyatta expected sparks, something other than the nervous little twitch responses he got from both himself and the tentative reply from the hand beneath the solid object. That tension remained, and he dared a fleeting glance at the crimson irises now focused on what he was doing. A thousand outcomes played through his mind; would Genji recoil, would he resume what he had begun outside, would he be angry or confused? None of Zenyatta’s thoughts would ever be completely accurate. And unfocused but emotionally charged, he unwittingly began to charge the slightly damaged orb.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have said I would be publishing the last two chapters in one go, but you know what? I am evil >:3c  
> So have this Chapter today and tomorrow...tomorrow we will get to the end of this first 'part' of Salvation! <3

Genji immediately met Zenyatta’s eyes when the monk looked up. The last of his words just lingering in the air between them, every motion in the younger man’s body registered by the artificial eyes of the cyborg, his body hyper-aware of the man sitting just a few meters away from him.

Fon’s chirping, synthetic voice almost made Genji jump with the way he was focused on the monk and it took more effort than expected for him to turn his attention to the omnic. He didn’t want to deal with the things Fon was saying. Didn’t want to think about how, should he decide to stay here, they would need to ** _accommodate_** him and upgrade their station to take care of the monstrosity his body had become. He didn’t even want to think about if he would stay here or not…all his mind could think about was the feeling of Zenyatta’s touch.

His head snapped back towards Zenyatta when he heard him speak, softly interrupting the fussing omnic and all of Genji’s senses concentrated on him. The smile directed at him made him stumble backwards against the workbench he had been perched against. Hopefully, it just looked like him losing balance due to the fact of his weakened state to the other occupants of the room and not like the brightness of that smile making his body react in ways he wasn’t comfortable with anymore.

Taking the utensils offered to him with his free hand, not breaking the gaze he was holding Zen with, Genji is flooded with relief when Fon excused himself. How had they managed to prevent any more fussing and questioning Genji didn’t know but his mind was also in no state to question it further.  
Turning towards where Mondatta had been seated the cyborg almost purred with delight when he watched the older monk get up as well, turning towards Fon and drawing the omnic away from the two of them.

Watching the two figures leave the workshop, closing the door behind them, he listened for their footsteps to become more and more distant.  
Once more Genji’s entire attention snapped back to Zenyatta when he spoke, his voice hoarse and something inside Genji _stirred_. The tiredness and exhaustion became not much more than background noise, his physical and mental pain being drowned out by the whirlwind that Zenyatta caused inside of him.

Watching the monk across from him, Genji knew there were questions hanging in the heavy air between them. Questions he knew Zenyatta would ask him at some point and that he did not know the answers to yet – or if he would ever be able to answer those.  
The question directed at him was both too easy and too much for Genji. His mind a mess he would need many hours to puzzle an answer together and he could feel that the monk demanded an honest answer of him.

Watching Zenyatta take slow steps towards him he felt the words caught in his throat, noticing how he hadn’t moved even the slightest inch since his attention had been so caught by the monk.

 **“I-…I do not know”** , Genji replied honestly. He didn’t know how he felt at this moment.  
 _No.  
_ That was a lie. He knew how he felt – there were simply not enough or even the right words to describe what it was that he was experiencing.

Suddenly Zenyatta seemed to be right in front of him and reaching for the orb still resting in his hand. All air was caught in his lungs, the cyborg not breathing until he felt the barest of touch against the sensitive skin of his wrist. And suddenly everything came rushing through his body, the air leaving his lungs in one loud sigh, the spanner in his hand falling from his cybernetic hand and falling to the ground with a loud noise of metal meeting stone.

The warmth that began spreading from the small point of contact didn’t only come from the orb but the soft fingertips of Zenyatta. The soft golden glow between them illuminating Zenyatta and the metal parts of his own body.  
The pleasant warmth soon ignited a fire along Genji’s skin. Burning its way from the small area of touch up his arm, along his human skin, every fibre of his human body beginning to feel **_alive_**.

Breaking his gaze from Zenyatta to glance at his arm, expecting flames to lick against his skin and letting out a surprised gasp when all he saw was the golden glow from the orb Genji soon looked back at Zenyatta.

The urge to touch more of Zenyatta, to get more of this feeling grew inside of him like a wildfire. Like an addiction, he felt that he had to have this right now or else he might fall apart.  
His mind went completely blank, everything else forgotten and the only thought remaining inside of him screamed: **_ZENYATTA!_**

He moved his cybernetic arm to grasp the wrist of the man in front of him using it to pull him closer, everything felt like he wasn’t in control of his own body like he was standing beside himself and watching the scene unfold.  
Needing to feel more of this skin with his _own_ skin Genji moved swiftly, pulling at Zenyatta’s wrist and his human hand letting go of the orb, the object falling to the ground between them, causing another sound of metal meeting the stone of the workshop.

The fire on his skin made Genji’s mind feel fogged up, the intensity of the emotions coursing through him burning his thoughts and reducing him to a mess of a man who was only acting on the barest of instincts. And all these instincts screamed at Genji to hold this man, that he was **_HIS_**.  
A growl echoed in the silence that had settled between them, no longer a sound that was even remotely human.

With another low grunt, Genji surged forward, crashing his lips against the ones of the man in front of him, kissing Zenyatta like he was the air he needed to breathe like he was a drowning man desperately gasping for air whenever he broke above the water’s surface.  
His hand sprawled over the monk’s arm, travelling up his arm and to his shoulder, sneaking under the wrap of his kasaya and down his back, gasping when he felt the warmth that was gathered between the fabric and the man’s skin. Grabbing at the skin, almost scratching the skin and pulling Zenyatta even closer to Genji’s body, he stepped forward trying to get even closer to the monk.

Growling in frustration when all his pushing did was make Zenyatta move backwards, Genji took several more steps until he was able to push the monk against the workbench he had just gotten up from. Moving his cybernetic hand to catch the hand that started pushing at his shoulder, grabbing it around the wrist and feeling the wild flutter of the man’s pulse under his fingertips.

If he could crawl into the warmth that Zenyatta was radiating right now, Genji would. With how things were right now the cyborg made low noises varying between grunts and groans. Breathing in the smell that was so unmistakably Zenyatta in between his rough kisses to the man’s lips.  
Everything inside of him screamed at him to take this man, to make him his, to **mark** him. He was his! His alone!  
His shining bright light leading him away from the darkness that was so close to engulfing him. His source of warmth, the only thing that seemed to warm both Genji’s skin and his soul.  
His **_salvation_**!

A small part of his brain registered the struggle Zenyatta began in his hold, noticing but not hearing the words the man tried to get out. Something inside of Genji was screaming how wrong this all was. How this was another man and he shouldn’t feel these emotions towards his own gender, how he was violating the man and forcing himself on him. But the urge, the addiction spurred him on, pushing those thoughts away until they were nothing more than an afterthought.

Something Genji didn’t notice about himself was the way that his eyes had begun glowing a deep green. Like the fire of a dragon he long thought dead, an entity that was now desperately fighting its way back into the forefront of his consciousness, a beast that touched another human’s mind and found peace waiting there for him, for his master.

* * *

A soft sigh breezed past Zenyatta’s lips at Genji’s admission. Then neither of them were any closer to working out what ‘this’ was. Truly puzzling for Zenyatta but the point of reference was neither personal nor second hand. It was simple hearsay or words in text, written by authors he no more knew than a stranger on the street. His life before the monastery was fleeting at best, and he far too young to remember much of significance. Fon had been the typical overprotective father figure, and his fussing had to have seen off to most.

Ah, Zenyatta thought, he would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so… _tense_.

Genji had grown very quiet, a certain type of silence that surpassed his usual sombre, sulking, nature. This had nothing to do with his fever, nor the infection still wracking his body with weakness, nor was it anger so far as the monk could tell. But it was silence in the same way a shadow could be darker than the night surrounding it, and he was left tingling with curiosity, wondering if he should be more concerned about this than intrigued. In typical true form, Zenyatta knew which one would win out, and he could hear Mondatta scolding him inside his thoughts.

 **“Genji, I…”** , the younger man stopped, trying to collect his thoughts into the semblance of something making a modicum of sense, rather than the disjointed jumble of half-sensicals he seemed to be conjuring up on a whim.  
 **“I know you feel it too. Your soul, it…radiates this intensity.”**

His fingertips still rested lightly against the other’s palm, the ringing of the orb starting to become intrusive, noticeable to him enough for the glow within his palm to begin to fade. One harmony orb was enough to be a comfort, but two? Zenyatta wasn’t sure what the effects would produce. Peace, pure harmony, rapture? The last thought recalled things he should not have been considering here of all places. Not when they were so close to the sanctum where so many of his brothers were, right this very moment, deep in the middle of the meditative devotions. Iris…he shouldn’t have been thinking about them at all.

 **“It’s more alive than I have seen in the few days you have been here.”**   
And it was beautiful, truly. The young monk wished that the cyborg himself had been able to witness it as he had, through the Iris, made him see what the dragon had shown to him, allowed Genji to realize his potential and heal.  
But healing wasn’t what was driving him, was it? There were other forces at work here, forces Zenyatta could not place a definitive marker on, so much as guess.  
 **“Your dragon spirit, I believe it is trying to - “**

Genji’s hand splayed, fingers spreading out, only to flip over and send the orb clattering to the ground, its melodic chime interrupted and silenced abruptly. Zenyatta’s connection to it was momentarily severed, leaving him temporarily jarred. That one, flesh and blood, hand encompassed his wrist firmly, fingertips feeling their way across his forearm without hesitation, leaving hot trails of sensual fire tingling in their wake.  
 _What was this?_ What was Genji doing?  
Less than powerless to stop it, his hesitation gave the cyborg chance enough to gain purchase firmly, palm pressing his need into the pliant flesh of the monk beneath his hold. And despite his better instincts, Zenyatta did not pull away as much as he should have. What if this was the breakthrough he had been seeking, what if this was the moment Genji finally opened to him?

**“I think we shou - _mmph!”_**

Scarred lips, hot and demanding, mashed hard against his, the monk’s eyes widening as surprise rendered him completely useless for the mere seconds it had taken the other to push him back against the workbench. Zenyatta went with it, too stunned to respond but not too shocked for his mind, his senses, to react.

And that was when that same, questing, hand slipped beneath the shoulder of his kasaya, groping their way around his back, stubs of nails digging, futile, into his back and igniting the synapses along his spine. It was a bid to attempt to draw him closer, like Genji would have devoured him then and there, not knowing when enough was too much. But all it did was make the monk resist, squirming back, his efforts to put an inch of breathing space between them thwarted thoroughly by the bench he was resting flush against.

Upon the floor, his discarded orb stirred, jostled and agitated by the influx of sensations now coursing through its master’s thoughts. Up it rose, its comforting ringing shifting in pitch, the discordant energy within zinging and bursting to get out with such force, Zenyatta unwittingly sent it careening into the high-vaulted ceiling with enough force to have taken someone’s head clean off their shoulders. Small fragments of masonry began to rain down onto the floor a short distance behind Genji’s heels, the orb itself still firmly embedded in the plasterwork of the workshop - it wasn’t coming down yet.

Zenyatta’s hand raised as he was reaching for Genji’s shoulder, it was intercepted, smoothly, by a cybernetic one, grasping his wrist in a manner that was not meant to harm, yet he could feel the servos beneath that smooth plating tremble gently when the goose-pimples, upon Zenyatta’s arm, began to rise softly.

Memories thought long since forgotten began to rear their ugly heads in his mind. That night, the scuffle that had started it all - an ambush, he recalled - and how he had fought tooth and nail to free himself from their grasp. But there had been many of them and only one of him, his orbs left behind where he could not call them to his person. The motive hadn’t been sexual, nor - so their ringleader had said - was it supposed to be so violent. And true to his word, the former had never occurred. They wanted him gone, and if he would not leave willingly, then they would find a way to make him disappear for good. If only he had just left when they had told him to, it wouldn’t have come to this, they would not have put their hands on him, it wouldn’t have ended in the way that it had…

Zenyatta bent as far back as was comfortable, wrenching his head to the side, breathless, gasping, desperate to clear the haze now clouding his thoughts. By the time he looked back at the stunned and very much needy cyborg, he could see that the light in his eyes had changed. Gone was the bright crimson of his ocular implants, replaced by a verdant shade that shone brilliantly in the muted light streaming in through the shuttered windows. It was the same, familiar, shade he had seen before.

The dragon, _Genji’s_ dragon.

He made an attempt to speak, the two of them resting in suspended animation for what could have only been seconds, yet felt like hours. Zenyatta’s mouth moved uselessly, trying to form words and failing as he had in the snow, but one thing above all others bolstered him now: That feeling, that unequivocal pressure and tension, was stronger now than ever before, pushing, picking away at the seams of his composure until all at once, his eyes caught Genji’s and the young monk _surged_.

No more thoughts of a dark past, of why this was wrong, he did not think, he did not premeditate his actions, Zenyatta simply felt.  
All caution thrown to the wind, he leaned back in, capturing those same, kiss-swollen, lips in a searing kiss of his own. And this time, Zenyatta reciprocate in kind, pushing back against the man leaning into him, chest to chest until he was sure Genji would feel the thudding of his heart throughout every sensor his life-saving cybernetics possessed.  
That mechanical hand still held his wrist firm, so he let all tension and resistance drain from it completely, instead using the bulk of his body to inch his way forward, try to put an inch, maybe two, between himself and this uncomfortable, work-worn, bench.

Hungrily, those lips worked against the others, the monk’s clever tongue aching for a taste of the forbidden and yet knowing beyond all doubt that it was wrong. This man was sick, not only physically but still reeling from mental trauma, the likes of which he could not fully comprehend yet. Genji was not in his right mind and that was what had caused this, caused the whole sordid ordeal.  
If Mondatta or Fon returned _if_ anyone _caught them like this…_

**_CLANG!_ **

What went up surely came down, the momentarily forgotten orb hit the stone floor so abruptly, it was enough to startle Zenyatta into breaking their kiss with a small yelp of surprise.  
Metal components, once so lovingly pieced together, shattered into a dozen or so pieces, some of the more fragile casing skittering across the floor with a sound harsh enough to set the monk’s teeth on edge.  
Zenyatta’s reaction was stark, prompting the only fully formed words he had managed to make in as many moments.

**_“Iris_ ** **, my orb!”**

Distress laced the younger man’s words, like a piece of himself had been shattered into fragments and laid bare for all to scrutinize. It was enough to take advantage of the lapse in judgement and slip free of Genji’s grasp, so he did so without preamble, dropping to the unforgiving floor without so much as a moments care about the state of his dishevelled and displaced kasaya. Its normally neat shoulder loop had fallen away completely, the knot that held that portion loose and sloppy, while Zenyatta’s shaking fingertips began to scrabble and scoop up every little piece he could locate while his mind whirled in disarray.

What had he done, what had _they_ done?

* * *

Genji had faintly registered the orb’s song becoming discordant and its pitch changing from a soft chiming to an unpleasant screeching sound. The cyborg didn’t even flinch when he heard the orb hit the ceiling though, his mind too far gone and the spirit dragon taking over more and more parts of his mind and thoughts.

A growl slipped from the cyborg’s lips when Zenyatta managed to wrench his face to the side. Breathing heavily, Genji, or rather the dragon, stared at the monk with wide-blown eyes and an unexplainable hunger in those green glowing irises.

Just when Genji wanted to move forward, not being able to take the tension between them a second longer, did he feel Zenyatta surge forward in his hold. Clashing their mouths together, he immediately began devouring Zenyatta’s lips, pushing his tongue against those soft lips, forcing his way inside and tasting the man in his arms.  
Feeling his pulse quicken, his breath coming in short gasps in between short breaks the two men needed to take and the feeling of Zenyatta’s body, heating against his cybernetics, his chest rising against what was left of Genji’s skin made him feel drunk.

Everything inside Genji was concentrated on this moment, on holding Zenyatta, on **_claiming_** him! His dragon so suddenly taking over his every thought, his entire body, after being gone for years! Feeling the intense energy surging through his body Genji felt himself get lost, his mind almost breaking under the strain and the exhaustion. How could it be that his dragon was suddenly with him again?! He had seen him die!! And why was he so obsessed with Zenyatta?

He knew that the answer to this question laid not only with the dragon, not entirely. He had felt the connection to the younger monk even before his dragon had made himself present again. There was something about the man that called to Genji. A light that promised healing, promised safety.

His mind reeled with the power of the dragon, the feeling of human touch after so many years of shying away from it, the knowledge that he was violating every trust that had been built between himself and Zenyatta. The cyborg felt like he was about to pass out, his body too overwhelmed from the sensations when suddenly a loud sound behind them jerked them away from each other.

Zenyatta’s attention was quickly drawn away from Genji and another angry growl slipped from his lips, his head moving forward to try and claim the man’s lips once again but Zenyatta was already trying to move from his hold and it was impossible to get him to stop squirming. Deciding that he couldn’t let go of Zenyatta yet, the dragon-possessed cyborg leaned back in, going for the tender skin on the of the monk’s shoulder, biting down softly and sucking at the skin, while his tongue laid flat against the skin, tasting him.

A moan slipped from Genji’s lips as he tasted more of Zenyatta and his hold on the man loosened enough for him to slip free from his hold. A whine followed a long exhale as he watched Zenyatta drop to the floor and reach for parts…parts of what exactly?

Shaking his head, the battle inside his head against the power of his dragon raging and the cyborg fighting desperately for control, he stumbled backwards and crashed loudly against the workbench.  
Having managed to push the wild beast in his mind back slightly Genji focused on Zenyatta scooping up the pieces of his orb. Recognizing it as what it was now that his head felt more like his own. The roaring of the beast was still making Genji dizzy and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the dragon back for much longer.

 **“Zen-…yatta…I-…”** , Genji stammered, wanting to apologize, to beg for forgiveness for what he had done. He had broken every rule, every unwritten dogma of the monk with his behaviour. Assaulting him as he had and yet still feeling the strong urge to be close to the man. A mixture of the strong urges of the dragon and his desperate wish for human contact.

Feeling himself step forward and trying to reach for the man he fought against the movement, pulling himself back, forcing the dragon back further into the back of his mind to try and stay sane, the power surging through his body too strongly for his weakened state to handle.  
What had he done?  
Stumbling backwards, he hit the workbench again and pushing himself against the side he kept his eyes on the back of the monk and the dark mark forming on his shoulder where the fabric of the kasaya was hanging off.

 **“I-…”  
** Not being able to speak properly, his voice came out much deeper and lazed with the power of the dragon, he closed his mouth, clenching his teeth tightly together, feeling the strain in his artificial jaws.  
He needed to leave. Now.  
Panic rose inside of him and his instincts screamed at him to **_RUN_**!

He was a monster after all.  
A machine that could only hurt others.  
There was nothing soft, nothing nice about him anymore. How could he have hoped for anything good to happen in this monastery?  
Feeling the control over his dragon weaken and his sanity slip from his fingers like grains of sand, Genji turned around and bolted towards the door. Throwing it open with enough force to almost unhinge the old wood he began running down the corridor. His memory of the place suddenly clear, the power of the dragon making him able to run, to get away, when his body was closer to shutting down, the sickness and exhaustion holding his body and brain in a tight grip.

Reaching the courtyard, in which all this mess had begun, he stopped in his tracks, looking around frantically, pushing himself against the wall of one side and blinking up into the bright light of the sun overhead.  
Glancing towards the entrance from which Mondatta had come from earlier, he took slow steps towards it and once there he looked up at the mountains. Surely if he got far enough away from the monastery, he wouldn’t harm anyone if he lost control over his dragon. The beast was by now clawing and biting at him in his mind, demanding to be released, demanding for him to return to his _mate_!

Not looking back, in fear of seeing Zenyatta run after him and making it impossible for him to leave, he stepped outside the boundary of the monastery. Taking the turn on the path that would lead him further up the mountain, he soon found himself without a track, fresh snow had covered even the smallest of hints as to where the path leads.

Running along the old stone walls of the monastery for as long as it was possible, Genji only stopped when the snow got too deep and he was forced to walk at a slower pace. Feeling his body shake from the cold and from holding in the raw power of the dragon, he noticed his vision go fuzzy and his eyes becoming unable to focus on the horizon. With no feeling of how much time had passed or how far he had made it, he took a couple more steps in the deep snow before collapsing to his knees.

 **“What have you done?!”,** he then screamed into the silence of the mountains, feeling his dragon stir inside of him.  
 **“You were DEAD! YOU LEFT ME! YOU LEFT ME JUST LIKE…like…like my broth-“** , his shouting turned into a sob when memories flashed before his eyes, the feelings of that day assaulting his senses.

Just as Genji felt that his body was beginning to break down, limbs jerking in an overload of sensory input and exhaustion he let out a piercing scream, filled with all the hurt, the anger and the miserable sadness that coursed through him. His scream found its echo in the loud roar of a dragon breaking free and protect its master.

A flurry of green flames engulfed Genji’s body as the man fell into unconsciousness, the beast moving around him in a circle that cleared away most of the snow that had freshly fallen over the glazier. Rising into the air, the circle around Genji getting wider and wider, a second roar was heard that echoed on the mountainside just as the head of Genji’s dragon materialized in the glowing, green flames. Its mouth wide open and circling around Genji’s unmoving body, low growls coming from the beast in worry for its master.

Feeling the man’s consciousness fade further and knowing that its own power was too weak yet to do more than materialize, the dragon roared again, a sound filled with pain and desperation. Its master was too weak, and the dragon had already used all its strength to protect Genji in the cold, its hold on him fading and the thin connection it had been able to establish between Genji and itself ripped thread by thread.

The dragon surged into the air, a flurry of green flames and snow rising into the air until it disappeared leaving only the soft fall of snow behind and the body of a man, lying in the cleared circle, his chest rising dangerously slow – the only sign that Genji was still alive, his mind drifting to complete darkness.

* * *

Behind him he could hear the subtle shuffle of Genji’s feet, the tentative words, he tried to project, meeting his ears as broken parts. Just as broken as his shattered orb.  
It lay there, pieces strewn in a wide arc in all directions, the bulk of its mass a twisted and dented wreck at the epicentre of the impact - which, thankfully for the both of them, had not left an indent in the stone floor as well as the ceiling.  
Zenyatta’s hands began to scoop up the larger pieces, collecting them in the little fabric sling created by the fall of kasaya against his lap, trying his hardest not to show the trembling discord now running freely through his thoughts.  
Genji sounded just as shell-shocked as he felt, but it had been the former who had made the first move with a strength that he could not fully comprehend. Hours earlier the man had been as weak as a day-old kitten, wracked by infection and too fragile to even contemplate heading to the dining hall to eat with the others. One night’s good sleep couldn’t heal that, let alone change the colour and composition of a man’s irises.  
There was much of Genji’s biology they couldn’t understand, as no man such as him had ever encountered the Shambali, at least not to Zenyatta’s knowledge.

Was it possible that Mondatta had been right to be cautious, did they really have a ticking time bomb in their midst?  
That did not mean he was beyond help, Zenyatta told himself, there was hope for everyone, if they could only find balance within themselves.

Shaky fingertips plucked a curved piece of the orb’s shell, feeling his emotions well and surge. In the space of three hours, he had abandoned seven of his orbs to the snow, damaged one and destroyed another. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. He had almost fully passed into the Iris, lied to both Fon and Mondatta about it and Genji had become his unwitting accomplice.  
Both hands clasped themselves to the back of his skull, kneading tensely. How had _any_ of this happened? This wasn’t like him!

But that was not what had him so worked up. The ever-present twisting in his gut, the way his cheeks burned so hot he felt as though he needed to lay face down in the snow. That wasn’t guilt or remorse for his foolish actions, that was something he had been actively avoiding since the day before, and the one before that. This raised questions he did not believe he could answer with words alone and he was not about to ask his master for advice on that one.

The monk’s back stung with the hairline scratches left by too-hungry-fingers, intersecting intricate tattoos and marring them with their own hasty pattern. And when he reached for the spot where Genji’s mouth had marked him, his fingertips could quite plainly trace the remnants of small indents in the flesh there. He would need to cover that up, hide it from the others before they began asking questions.  
Hastily he tugged at the loose upper part of his robes, pulling the loop back over his shoulder and attempting to re-adjust the knot, fingers clumsily fumbling over the motions that were otherwise well-practised.

 **“W-We need to tidy this place up…”** , he managed, hating how unnerved he sounded, how uncertain.   
**“Mondatta will want to know what happened and we can’t-…”  
** Zenyatta swallowed thickly; another lie, that was all he needed. But what was the alternative? Simple: There was none.  
 **“I can’t keep lying to-”  
** A sudden commotion from behind him made Zenyatta spin around, spilling the contents of his lap onto the floor again. Genji had made a bolt for the door at a flat-out sprint, feet clinking along the hallway floor to the tune of his racing heart. Zenyatta stared for a moment, dumbfounded and it wasn’t until the cyborg had disappeared from sight that the young man managed to summon the coordination needed to get to his feet and attempt to take off after him.

 **“Genji, wait!”  
** Calling after him made his lungs burn for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, he had not noticed how breathless he had been until that moment, but it was not going to stop him from giving chase.

Zenyatta tore down the hall, deciding, before he reached the junction, that the likeliest place Genji would head was the outside world. Within the monastery, there were too many places one could bump into someone else or become lost entirely. Outside meant escape, outside meant freedom and the unknown. Yet that was precisely where the man had tried to run before, seeking more comfort in the open sky than facing his inner demons.  
Feet pounding against the floor hard enough for the reverberations to rattle up his legs into his knees, Zenyatta pushed himself onward, nearly colliding with the open ornate jamb when his foot landed in a small pile of snowdrift that had blown in from the outside. Extending a hand, he allowed it to take the brunt of his collision, chest heaving, eyes scanning the courtyard and concourse for footprints in the snow…

He found dozens, some made by omnics, others human in origin, but so many in their multitude heading towards the narrow mountain path, that to determine which belonged to Genji and which were simply a track left by his brothers would have been impossible. Panic and anxiety, a cruel duo, began to slip their tendrils around him, clenching his fists and lashing his arms tightly to his sides. He couldn’t breathe, this wasn’t happening, none of this made any sense so it had to be another vision, a nightmare, it _couldn’t_ be real!  
But as he sunk down to the floor, hands gripping the jamb tight enough he was sure he gathered splinters, Zenyatta realized just how real this whole ordeal was.

And that meant that Genji, or whatever that green-eyed being that had a grip on Genji was, was out there alone, reckless and very sick.

_Think, you need to get a grip, there isn’t any time to ask for help, you need to find him now._

Snow had begun to fall again, its light, powdery, dusting beginning to hide all evidence of anyone setting foot on those stones, much less what would cover the frozen pathways up the mountain. Genji could have headed for the shelter of the village half a mile below them but given that he had taken painstaking lengths to avoid them on the way up, the likelihood of him going back that way was slim. If someone wished to be alone, there was only one way, up or down, that a traveller could pass. And Zenyatta did not like that prospect.

Moments later he stood in his room, various items now strewn across the floor while he rummaged through his storage trunk. There was no time for care, only haste, and with the items he needed procured and stuffed, chaotically, into a large canvas bag, he slung the thing across one shoulder and paid no mind to the mess as he pushed his way back out into the hall again. His sandals discarded, he surmised that he would be able to move faster this way, and while the hydraulics in his legs might attempt to seize up, the pace would keep them warm and loose enough to prevent any true freezing.

Zenyatta hauled himself, step after step, down the corridor, determined, ready to breeze past anyone who might stop him and even more stubborn to the notion of answering their questions. In his mind, he imagined running into Mondatta, calmly pushing his master and his list of demands aside, then resolutely stepping out into the snow like he was simply going for a morning jog. Mondatta would ask and Zenyatta would tell him that he need not worry, that he would be back, with Genji, before the sun began to set behind the mountain range. And Mondatta would just accept this with the calm, grace and assurance that he trusted his student to do just that.  
Yes, in Zenyatta’s _mind_ it would all go as smoothly as that.

So when he finally reached the monastery doors at fully brisk pace and there, silhouetted by the ethereal afternoon light, stood Tekhartha Mondatta, it should have been as smooth and easy as he had rehearsed it in his thoughts.  
Obstinate, Zenyatta had prepared to breeze on by with little more than a passing reassurance…  
Until he saw the remnants of a shattered orb resting in the palm of one hand and, as the younger monk drew closer, caught the glint of stormy concern in his master’s eyes.

Zenyatta’s pace ground to a stuttering halt, feet not quite willing to readjust to the lack of momentum suddenly enforced upon them. And to his complete shame, all he could do was stare.

Mondatta’s worried gaze dropped to the bag now resting, unsteadily, against his student’s hip, then back up again.  
 **“A little late in the day to be setting out for an excursion, is it not?”  
** Zenyatta held his silence.  
 **“I came by the workshop to see how you and Genji were progressing, yet I find the both of you gone and the remains of this scattered everywhere.”  
** The older monk’s tone was its usual soft, deep timbre, but Zenyatta knew only too well the slight waver behind it was a concern he did not deserve.  
 **“Genji’s personal effects are still securely where I placed them and he is not in the infirmary, which means he did not take them with him. And now I see that my student is preparing to leave the grounds in the middle of what appears to be an approaching snowstorm.”**

Zenyatta could feel his inner self curl inward, seeking the shrinking strength he needed to just leave. Because with every passing second he wasted here, Genji would get a little further out of reach.  
The younger monk attempted to pass, only to be halted by the gentle, but firm, placement of a hand upon his shoulder. Tension instantly filled his frame, stilling the young man instantly. It was the shoulder that bore the mark, hidden now by the fall of the cloak he had used to wrap around the top half of his robes - it would protect from the cold, the snow, but most of all, shielded from view the evidence that would bring this all crashing down upon him. There was no way Mondatta could have seen, yet with that simple touch, Zenyatta _felt_ as though he knew, and that was enough to make the discord within him swell.

**“My student, you cannot be thinking of leaving now. That storm will be in for the night within a couple of hours and the paths are impass-”**

**“Genji is out there, I can’t leave him!”,** Zenyatta responded before his master could say another word, the younger monk’s eyes searching those of his teacher.  
 **“He…He’s sick and afraid and not in his right mind.”**

Mondatta’s expression softened but remained no less concerned.  
 **“I will send word to the shrine further up the mountain, our omnic brothers there may stand a better chance at weathering the storm and locating him, but it is too risky to be heading out there ourselves. Genji is a troubled man, but a man nonetheless, he is free to come and go as he chooses and if he chooses to ignore the warnings, it is through no fault of our own.”**

 _No_ , no this wasn’t right! Zenyatta could feel his desperation and anger surge, the discord having its way and rightly so. He couldn’t just leave it to chance, hope that the omnics at the shrines found him before the weather set in for the duration. By then it might be too late!

 **“But it’s _my_ fault he is out there!”**, he shrugged his shoulder free, tugging up the sides of the cloak to hide the tell-tale marks of their…what did he even call that?  
Mondatta had never looked more confused in the entire time Zenyatta had known him, and that made his heart ache beyond belief. He wanted to tell him, he wanted to explain but there was absolutely no time. Already walking out into the gathering winds, he motioned for the older man to stay, silently begging him to just let him do this one thing, even if that thing was his last. Was he not a man capable of his own acts and decisions too? He had navigated the paths in storms before, there was a risk, but he knew how to find his way to shelter and wait it out if things became too bad.  
 **“Please, I will explain everything when I get back, you have my word, but I have to find him. _I have to.”_**

The older monk wavered between following and going back to find something more weather worthy himself. His student couldn’t be serious?! However, when Zenyatta turned his back and began to trudge into the encroaching snow, offering a promise that he would be fine, that he would return with Genji in tow, it became abundantly obvious that he really was. And he had better be, thought Mondatta, because Fon would never forgive the elder if he did not.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is: the last Chapter (for now)   
> art once again by my amazing Co-Creator!!

The ice-cold wind howled around the snow-covered stones, letting the snowflakes dance wild around Genji. Deadly spikes of crumbled rocks hiding under piles of snow and ice. The path he took up towards the mountain was only barely visible. The area around the collapsed body was mostly free of snow but everything that the dragon had brought up with him, was finding its way slowly down to the earth beneath again. The soft snow beginning to cover Genji’s body.

There was no fresh snow falling yet but the sky was looking more and more like a snowstorm was approaching. The survival chances of the motionless body lying on the ground with the possibility of snow covering him up were getting lower and lower. Already his body was cooling down rapidly and the cybernetics began to conserve body heat and putting it to the core of the cyborg’s body, trying to keep the vital organs warm and functioning.

Meanwhile, Genji’s consciousness, his mind, had begun to drift into bottomless darkness. Nothing existed in the blackness that was all around him. Time became irrelevant. No coldness could be felt there, his body existing in a sphere that was neither reality nor dream.

Genji didn’t know for how long he had been adrift when he began to see a light in the darkness. Briefly wondering if this was what everyone always meant when they talked about almost dying…a light at the end of a tunnel.  
Except that Genji had almost died once before and there had been no light, only darkness and the agony and pain coursing through his mind and body. Those feelings had haunted him until he had passed out completely, wishing for it to be the end, hoping that he would never wake up again. Except that he had woken up again.

All of a sudden the blackness seemed to rush past him, the light approaching faster and faster until it was all around him and Genji tried to shield his eyes from it, closing them and covering his eyes when the light almost burned his eyes even after closing them.

When he opened them again, he was suddenly back in his childhood home. Able to smell the cherry blossoms and feel the light breeze against his skin. Skin that is entirely human…and much _smaller_.  
Could it be that he had died and this was indeed heaven? Was he back in a time where life was still good? Back when he was too young to understand what was going on around him?

Suddenly he heard footsteps from behind and Genji whipped around, choking on a gasp when he saw his brother, also much younger than he was now, walking towards him.   
Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary for Hanzo and as he noticed Genji stand on the porch a smile lit up his face. Genji could feel the warmth of his brother’s hand in his hair, ruffling it and chuckling when his younger brother tried to swat his hand away.  
The scenery around them changed, his body growing and Genji found himself in the dojo. Lying on the ground with Hanzo above him, face serious but soon turning into one of the soft smiles that Genji hadn’t been able to see since they had both come of age.

His brother offered him a hand and as Genji takes it he noticed the lack of the dragon tattoo on Hanzo’s arm…and neither did his right arm show the green dragon yet.  
He didn’t understand what the young man was saying to him but he remembered this day. It was the day that Hanzo had finally admitted that Genji was catching up to him skill-wise. They had teased each other until late that night about the fact that Genji would never admit a defeat against Hanzo…only over his dead body. If he only had only known just how true that sentiment would ring just a few years later.  
Looking into Hanzo’s face, noticing the bags under his eyes and the tension settling in on his shoulders, Genji felt the same pull once again and the scenery changed around them once more.

He now found himself surrounded by many of the elders of the Shimada clan, including his father and brother. Both standing in the back of the room. Turning towards the buzzing that came from next to him he looked down at his arm that was strapped to a table, the black outlines and the beginning of colour showing on his arm.

The day he turned 18 was the day the dragon spirit, which he had always been able to feel and even summon, had been bound to his soul through a long ritual that involved sitting through the entire process of getting his arm inked. At the time those hours had felt like the longest he had ever had to live through, the pain in his arm growing steadily as he felt the power of the dragon surge through him.

Ever since that day he had never truly been alone anymore. No matter what he was doing, there was always a presence within him and it had soothed him many times when Sojiro had once again made clear what he thought about Genji’s lifestyle and the disrespect he was showing towards the family traditions.

The day that he had finally felt the dragon connect with him had been the happiest Genji had ever felt.

Just as the pain in his arm seemed to become too much and a scream threatened to spill from his lips did, he feel the by now all too familiar pull. Suddenly being back in the darkness Genji wondered if this truly was either hell or heaven. Or if he would be reborn and the heavens were revisiting his life, judging him and deciding on how he should be reborn. Genji had never been a religious person…thinking that whatever happened after death if anything happened at all, would simply have to surprise him.

Feeling the rush against him and finding himself in yet another scene, Genji didn’t quite understand what was happening, since all around him was the darkness once again. Until he heard the shouting from somewhere to his side. The Elders arguing with his father. About his behaviour and the disrespect. That Genji needed to be disciplined and put into place or he would have to be dealt with.

Back then he had not understood what the Elders had meant by that.

Blinking in the darkness he was suddenly facing his brother when he opened his eyes next. The serious gaze of Hanzo resting on him. Lost was the soft smile that he had always given Genji, lost was the soft ruffling of hair whenever he saw his younger brother in the hallways. Lost was the love between brothers…all that was left was the brainwashing of old men that had formed Hanzo into the perfect tool, the perfect heir.

An emptiness started to spread inside of Genji…where there had previously been no emotions in this state of neither dream nor reality, a vast emptiness was starting to open. He realized that he should feel the hatred that he had been feeling for so many years. But instead of the furious anger, sadness began to fill up the void inside of him. And he noticed the tears that were streaming down his face as he mourned all that he had lost, all the love, the life he had…the brother that in the end turned his back on him after striking him down.

Just as Genji closed his eyes again, trying to flee from the unmoving face of his brother, the blank mask that seemed to have settled over his brother’s face, he felt himself being pulled back into the darkness.  
He didn’t know for how long he had been in this state of non-existence. No feeling of time or space was possible in the nothingness that he drifted through. Maybe he had fallen asleep inside this black void…maybe this was indeed what happened after a person died. No new memories were shown to him for a while…but if it had been minutes of hours, Genji couldn’t tell.

A sudden pull, not quite like the ones before made Genji perk up. Something about this was different. Like something inside of him was fighting against it. But the feeling only got stronger until it felt like he was being ripped apart.  
Screaming into the blackness around him, tears leaked from his eyes as he tried to move, to run from this, to follow the pull and try to ease the pain.  
With a gasp Genji opened his eyes, staring once again at his brother.

But this time everything is different.   
He felt his breath come in ragged, wet gasps. There was liquid inside his lungs and the pain that shot through his body with every weak gasp he took made him dizzy. Blinking up towards Hanzo, who was standing in front of him with his katana by his side, Genji whimpered, trying to form words but instead only strangled noises spilt from his lips, along with wetness that soon dripped from his chin.  
 **“W-Why…?”**

Everything hurt but the question needed to be asked, the question Genji had never gotten an answer to, kneeling in front of his brother, bloody and close to death. Hanzo only looked down at him, face unmoving like Genji was just a stranger he had been ordered to take down. Like one of the many enemies of the Shimada clan that Genji had witnessed being murdered like this.

He knew this scene too well, had relived it over and over in the many nightmares and visions he had had since the fight. He knew what was about to happen and even when he did it had never gotten any less painful to experience.  
Watching Hanzo raise the sword, his eyes unmoving and focused on Genji, he strikes his younger brother down. Genji’s scream being stopped by the gurgling sound of blood in his mouth and lungs. His body was falling forward, and with no strength left in his arms to cushion his fall, he met the ground with a pained grunt. His breath now came in slow, rasping gasps. Panic filling him when he felt himself become weaker, his limbs starting to feel cold.

Just as he heard the footsteps of his brother leaving him did he hear another soft sound coming closer and closer towards him. The smell of smoke filling his nostrils and making him cough, his body convulsing in a desperate attempt to get air back inside his lungs.

A scream was ripped from him when suddenly, searing pain shot through his body from his feet upward. The smell in the air changed and Genji gagged as the pain travelled through him as his screams filled the air.  
The flames caught both his clothes and his skin on fire, burning away the skin.

With tears in his eyes and one last glance towards where Hanzo had disappeared to, did Genji accept death, the pain of the betrayal of his brother fueling the hatred inside of him? The pained roar of a dragon lingering in the air as Genji Shimada was officially declared dead on this fateful night.

Feeling like the pain of that night was lingering all over his body Genji as pulled back into the darkness. Screaming and shouting he tried to understand what was going on and what cruel entity was playing with him. Why he must relive all these moments?

**“HAVE I NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH ALREADY?!!”**

Fearing that any moment the pull would return, making him relive yet another one of his memories, Genji spent time in the nothingness. In a state that he couldn’t explain, something in which he was nothing and everything at the same time. The outside world seemed to be forgotten…the monastery…Zenyatta…

**“Zen-yatta. Zen-! ZENYATTA!”  
** Oh, how Genji craved the soft chiming of the man’s orb, the warmth it would spread through him. How he missed the man’s calm voice, its sound soothing Genji even when he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time.

Was this how everything would end?  
He had been wishing for death, for the suffering to finally end for so long that he wasn’t sure anymore what living meant. And yet the last couple of days, spend sick and delirious suddenly flashed in front of Genji. The kindness shown to him by strangers. Acceptance of his silence when asked what had happened to him, acceptance of his strange body. Omnics and humans living peacefully together and showing the world how peaceful a co-existence could be.

More memories flash in front of Genji’s eyes. The soft feeling of lips against his own, the warmth radiating from a body pressed tightly against his own, the feeling of eager lips returning the kiss and yielding to his touch. The shock on the monk’s face when the orb had come crushing down and they both realized what just had happened.  
But this had all been his dragon…not him.  
Surely everything was ruined now. Every kindness forgotten; acceptance destroyed after he had assaulted the monk. And yet…Genji couldn’t deny the fire that burned beneath his skin at the thought of Zenyatta, the desire to touch, to taste…to **own**.

**“Zenyatta…”** , the name slipped from Genji’s lips, both inside the emptiness he floated in and from his physical body, by now half-covered by the falling snow. Core temperature dangerously low, his heart and other vital organs barely kept warm enough by the last of his body’s energy.

* * *

By the time that Zenyatta had reached the narrow mountain path, the snow had well and truly begun to settle in for the day. Large flakes settled upon the ground in their droves, covering the well-trodden walkways with little more than smooth indentations in the white powder to signify where footprints lay beneath.  
The young monk tugged his sanghati tighter around his shoulders, pulling up some of the cloth so that it covered his nose and mouth, trapping the warmth of his own, determined, breath within its brightly coloured folds. The wind had begun to pick up, whipping up the hems of his Kasaya, until they clung to his legs in a stark outline of the form beneath, and he knew that it would be harsh going the moment he began the climb…it still wasn’t too late to go back or seek shelter in the village along the way.

But Genji wasn’t there, he felt it, somehow, he knew it every bit as surely as he had felt the dragon’s gaze upon him in his dreams. Genji had arrived alone, he had negated to stop at the village and had been found at their door, yet again, alone _.  
_ No, he needed to go _up_.

So, he pressed on, reaching the end of the path where it diverged up the steep incline towards the next plateau. From there, if Zenyatta’s memory served him correctly, lay the ruins of many more temple structures, older than even the monastery he called home, their domed ceilings and ornate walls cracked or crumbling under years’ worth of punishment from the elements. Unlivable to the layman but shelter enough for anyone wanting to wait out the storms and avoid dying of exposure on the hillside.

Squinting into the deluge of snow buffeting his face, he kept his eyes to the ground, despair rising insurmountably when he realized that the soft divots of footprints were rapidly disappearing, lost to a sea of unending white, with only a few stone ridges and overhangs to break up the mélange of swirling flakes and cloudy grey skies. How long had he been out here? It felt like minutes, but his fingers, now wrapped in the same, warm, cloth his torso was, were numb to the point of stiffness and each time he dared reach out to pull himself up over a difficult part of the landscape, he could feel them ache and throb for the warmth they had just been forced to leave. It would be nothing in comparison to what Genji must be feeling, Zenyatta kept thinking, forcing that thought, above all others, to remain firmly seated in his mind. Genji had fled the monastery with nothing but the being that he was, no clothes to speak of, no blanket to keep the part of him that was still flesh and blood from succumbing to the bitter cold.

Zenyatta was running out of time, and tracks to follow. He reached out again, muscles keening in hot streaks of painful protest when he took hold of a weather-worn marker post, hauling himself up onto somewhat more even ground. _Shaking ground_ ….

With no warning a deep, resonating, rumble began to make the ground that he was standing on vibrate intensely, the kinetic energy rattling its way through the components of his legs right up into the flesh and blood of Zenyatta’s thighs. An icy streak of adrenaline-laced fear flushed through his system, the impulse bringing only one, terrible, thought to mind: _Avalanche_.  
Yet when the monk whirled about on the spot, head-turning, gaze snapping to each of the mountain peaks, he could see no sign of the deadly landslide hurtling down any of the rock-face that were visible to him. But what he _did_ see, both confused and left him in awe all at once.

_Flames_ , a huge, towering, inferno rising to meet the stormy sky, breaking through the clouds to ascend like the light of the Iris into the great void beyond. Only, this was like no explosion that Zenyatta had ever witnessed, nor did it appear like someone had lit a beacon upon the mountainside. It was as if someone had set _fire_ to the heavens, gargantuan streams of green hellfire streaking towards the cosmos, shaking the very foundations of the earth.  
The monk stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, the argent coloured cloth covering his face falling away, though he had no recollection of it doing so, frozen in abject awe.  
Then, as suddenly as it had erupted from the earth, it narrowed, intensifying brightly when a roar ripped through the surrounding landscape, thundering across the distance with such deafening force, Zenyatta stumbled, the jarring jolt enough to startle him into grasping onto the wooden marker before he would have been sent tumbling back over the ledge.

And then _silence_ …

*****

The orb was beyond repair, it's shattered remains bent and warped, the intricate carvings distorted and scuffed so badly, little of their, once beautiful, lustre remained. Its song silenced forever.

Mondatta sighed, heavily, the fingertips of his left hand kneading his temple while the right ones plucked another shard of mangled metal from the sad little pile sitting atop his desk. There would be no salvaging it, Zenyatta would need to construct a new one.  
 _Zenyatta._   
He glanced at the shuttered window, catching glimpses of the snowfall from between the complicated latticework of patterns carved into the wood of the shutter itself. The weather was taking a turn for the worse.

Had he just allowed his student to walk to his own death?  
Zenyatta knew the terrain as well as the rest of them, had traversed it in such storms when there had been little choice but to do just that. But he had never done so alone, not without the others to look out for one another, to raise the alarm if someone were to be injured. Never alone…except for that one time.

_You should have been there._   
The voice of nagging doubt harped on at him from the part of his mind that he wished he could silence for good. _  
If you had been with him, they never would have reached him first. And you cannot hope to reach him now. _

It was true, Mondatta knew, he knew nothing about the direction Zenyatta had taken, nor if he would find Genji in this snowstorm. A storm that was exactly as bad as it had been the night his student had nearly been taken from them all.  
Mondatta’s left hand ceased its useless kneading and, clenched, it fell to the tabletop with a defeated thump.  
 _Damn_ his mind, _damn_ those thoughts for rearing their ugly heads now. It would do him no good to dwell on what had already been done and he, above all others, should know that!

A knock at his door jarred him abruptly from his self-pity, a familiar faceplate peeking around the edge of the tapestry that hung over the ornamental frame. Fon, he had been expecting him.

**“Come”** , Mondatta waved the curious omnic into the room, rising from the spot at his desk, but it wasn’t swift enough to distract Fon’s optics from picking out the familiar shell of an orb, settled upon the surface.  
 **“The plot thickens”** , Fon chirruped, his usually cheerful demeanour evading him for now. **“First I discover a rather large indent in the workshop ceiling and now I find you here, holding one of Zenyatta’s shattered orbs.”  
** **“It does not take a genius to work out that these two things are connected, indeed”** , Mondatta responded, huffing a tired chuckle he did not feel to the depths of his churning gut.

Fon paused at the desk’s edge, oversized hand plucking the shell of the orb from its resting place to hold up to bright optics, studying it carefully.  
 **“And where is Zenyatta? I hope he has offered you an explanation and I would be most interested to hear it…his behaviour of late has been-”**

**“Reckless?…I know.”** , the Shambali leader offered. Indeed, his student was flighty, prone to following his impulses rather than his head and it was a streak he had never lost, but Mondatta did not believe this was necessarily a bad trait. For all his reckless enthusiasm, Zenyatta had a kind heart and the ability to make others warm to him regardless of their initial attitude.  
 **“And he has not. He has gone looking for our newest guest, it seems Genji has decided to abscond without any of his belongings.”**

The omnic’s lights glimmered in an unsettled pattern, his head immediately swivelling to the same shuttered window Mondatta had been looking through moments ago. Here it came…  
 **“Absconded, _out there?!”_** , the omnic’s synth was shrill.   
**“The path will be cut off; he cannot hope to reach the village until after the storm passes. Zenyatta knows this!”**

The simple inclining of the leader’s head said everything words could not, and the grating rumble of the omnic’s systems was the wordless response.  
 **“He left approximately three hours ago.”  
** Fon’s expressionless faceplate could not portray it, but the omnic was positively aghast, arms reaching up to the heavens as if to request divine support.

**“And you _let_ him? Forgive me for suggesting, but _Bhante_ , have you lost your mind?”** Just to look at Mondatta would have told him no, he had not, that his tired expression and weary pacing told a story born of concern. So why had he allowed Zenyatta to leave? They had had foolish guests before, setting off without rhyme or reason, only to show up weeks later, another casualty of the elements. None of them wished for it, but it was their choice to make.  
Just as it was Zenyatta’s choice to make.

**“You believe I could have held him here? We do many things, but we do not keep prisoners, Fon, even the foolhardy”** , Mondatta replied, indicating he did not like this either. **“But you cannot deny that he is Genji’s best chance of survival. None know these mountains like one of our order and Zenyatta did not leave unprepared.”  
** His student would be back, he had spent nights on the inhospitable mountainside before now, he knew what to do - at least, it was better to believe that for now.

Fon, however, would forever be the concerned parent.  
 **“The _second_ this storm passes, we are heading out to find them and I will not hear any different.”**

*****

Zenyatta’s lungs were raw and burning by the time he had reached the approximate ridge he had seen the spectacular pyro-display from an hour earlier. Gulping down the frigid air only made it worse, inducing a coughing fit that wracked and rattled his ribs and was, frankly, at such altitudes a danger to his health. He couldn’t afford to be stricken with altitude sickness when Genji was out there…that _creature_ was out there. 

The footprint trail had run cold a mile or so back, but he had had that mark on the horizon, and following it had led him to the ridge below, and a steady stream of steam rising up from the scorched rockface just above him. _There_ \- that had to be it, the source of the green flames he had seen before. So up, up he had climbed, hauling himself into the howling wind and ice flakes that battered his too-numb face now. The second he was on his feet he could see it, a huge ring burned hard into the sizable ledge, and wherever the snow landed, it wouldn’t settle.  
Only at the fringes and its epicentre did it land, and it was that very epicentre that Zenyatta could clearly see the silver glint of metal with shocks of thick, black hair poking up from beneath the metal headband.

**“Genji?”**

Genji’s limbs were twisted at odd angles, the joint of his mechanical elbow jutting up from beneath a thin blanket of snow that had converged to cover most of his lower portions. His chest didn’t appear to move and for those first, horrifying moments, Zenyatta believed he was too late. Who would believe what he had seen out here, who could attest to this being real? Was this real? Strange things happened to those who succumbed to hypothermia, the eventual return of warmth just before death, the hallucinations that meant he was slipping beyond the veil of reality.

For several long moments, he stood there, rooted to the spot, so afraid that if he moved it would dispel the image and he would be here, alone, lost. But within the knowledge that he could not stay here, that he would have to seek shelter for the night, he reached back to pull the bag tighter against his shoulder…and heard a voice croak out his name.

The young monk’s gaze snapped around, limbs all moving at once, wading through the snow as he attempted to rush to the stricken man’s side. Genji had ventured out here with nothing but the frame that kept him alive for warmth, and while he imagined that was a good part of why this man was still breathing at all, he had been struck down with infection prior to this. Now? Zenyatta didn’t want to contemplate it.  
Dropping to his knees at Genji’s side, Zenyatta landed heavily, his bag of supplies thumping down in the snow next to him.

**_“Genji!_** **Genji, it’s me…I’m here”** , he breathed, letting the sanghati fall from his face, hands furiously trying to dig the man’s lower portions out of the snow like a dog.  
 **“Say something, talk to me”** , Zenyatta would have taken insults, pleas for him to go away again over nothing at all because a conscious Genji was a surely an alive one.

The monk brushed the snow away from the cyborg’s bare flesh, the other hand delving deep into the bag he had brought and snagging hold of a thermal blanket he had managed to stow away. Content enough that Genji’s body wasn’t about to be re-buried under any more snow for at least five minutes, he attempted to pull Genji upright - the man would not budge.  
 **“I need you to help me here, I can’t do this alone”** , Zenyatta pleaded, hating how weak he sounded, but with Genji barely conscious, let alone coherent, he really was going to have to do this alone.

Iris help him, if the man lived through this, then the monk was going to make sure Fon gave him one of his long-winded lectures!  
 **“Fine. Have it your own way, just don’t expect this to be dignified.”**

The more annoying he could be, the more will this man should have to fight, be it Zenyatta or the inclination to slip into the warmth of unconsciousness. So, without further hesitation, he began to tuck the blanket around the prone form, slipping it what little he could beneath Genji’s shoulders. He couldn’t lift him, but there was enough snow on the ground that he could _drag_ the gravely ill man to shelter. Allowing his arms to follow the route of the blanket, he braced himself, full weight thrown to the wind, for the short trip it would be to the third set of ruins he knew had to be nearby.

**“I don’t care how impressive that light show you made was, but you’re _going_ to tell me how to do that the second I get us somewhere to wait this storm out.”**

_Three…two… **one…  
**_ A single heave and they were off, Zenyatta dragging Genji, arms looped beneath the cyborg’s own, the bag of supplies he had been carrying resting on the downed man’s stomach. Dignified this was not, but that stomach was also alloy reinforced and could have, so the monk imagined, taken a lot more punishment than an organic one. The ruins were only a short drag around the plateau they rested on, and he had to wonder if those were what Genji had been aiming for. He wouldn’t have been the first person to hide out there, had he made it.  
 **“You had better wake up when we reach shelter”** , Zenyatta babbled, throwing all caution to the tempestuous wind. Well, anything was worth a try, wasn’t it?   
**“Wouldn’t want me to have to kiss you again to get you back down this mountain.”** _\- Say something, say anything, Genji, please._

* * *

Something was happening around him.

Genji couldn’t quite grasp how he knew, since he was still unconscious but suddenly, inside that darkness that surrounded him he felt a little less alone; a little less cold. Somehow everything also seemed to be shifting, even though being surrounded by total darkness it was hard to tell where the ground and where the sky was.

There was a warmth, a glow filling the darkness and illuminating the area around where he still seemed to be floating in nothingness.

**_“Genji! Genji, it’s me…I’m here”  
_** That voice. It was ringing softly inside his mind, but his brain wasn’t able to put it to a face, or a name. But he knew that voice! Something inside of him stirred came back to life and wanted to reach out towards that voice that sounded so frantic. But he was trapped inside the darkness of his mind, nothing of the former memories assaulting him, no more life around him. It was as if his entire mind was empty and only the shell of a man remained.

And yet.  
That voice continued talking. He couldn’t understand the words, wasn’t able to follow the quick sentences. Was he hearing things now? Could this voice be from beyond the realm of the living that was calling him? Waiting for him to join them?

He was shifting again and all of a sudden, his eyes flew open, staring into the darkness, as his physical body was moved in one sudden pull. The coldness was creeping into his unconsciousness and he began shivering, looking around himself to find the source of it. The golden glow now forming into a tight ball in front of him, almost feeling like it was emitting warmth.

The spot of light was moving around him now, slowly circling him, nudging against his shoulder and cheek as if to get him to move. But to where? And why?  
As Genji looked around him, trying to follow the light with his eyes he suddenly spotted a faint light in the distance. Was this the light at the end of the tunnel and why was the ball of light trying to lead him towards it?

That voice was calling to him again.  
Something invisible started pulling on Genji to follow the golden light, follow the warmth that it was radiating and which was also the point from which that voice was calling to him.  
Following the light, the voice, closer and closer towards the light Genji could feel the coldness around him get worse. Was this what death felt like? Absolute coldness surrounding him until there was no strength left in his lungs to gasp for air?

Just as he thought he reached the light, the whiteness surrounding and engulfing him almost completely now, a memory strike him like a lightning bolt.   
That voice was **_Zenyatta_**!

Slowly he took the last step, the light now fully embracing him.  
Suddenly he found himself conscious, waking with a gasp followed by a large intake of air. His eyes wide open as he desperately gasped for air. He was beyond cold, his entire body felt stiff and like needles were penetrating his skin. His cybernetics wouldn’t move and everything around him was too bright.

But there was one thing that Genji could not take his eyes from. There he was…the man he thought he had lost forever after his assault.  
Moving his lips was harder than he thought, his upper lip, that was still flesh and blood dried out and chapped. His throat dry and no sound coming from him, just staring up at the man that was kneeling above him.

**“…Zen-…-yatta”** , he croaked out, his voice faint and hoarse. His body was shaking and shivering from the cold. Everything was too cold and too much but there he was…there was Zenyatta with a worried frown on his face.

Collecting the little strength that his body still possessed he forced his left arm to move, to reach up towards Zenyatta’s face, wanting to touch the man’s skin, prove to himself that he was indeed real. The movement of his arm hurt along his entire body, his shoulder stiff and his muscles protesting at having to move the weight of his arm…but once Genji’s fingertips touched the flushed flesh of Zenyatta’s cheek, nothing mattered anymore.

**“Y-you...came…f-for me…”**


End file.
